On the dock

I wrote a note knowing that when it arrived I would either remain the same or change, owing to what I received in return.

I used to know what I meant to you. Not a great deal, but it was enough. Now I only know you are ashamed of me for reasons that did not used to matter. I was convinced that whatever transpired to make you have that feeling about me was outside the scope of our relationship.

I wished, utterly uncompromised by this knowledge, that you would see, the way I do, that our story together is unfinished. Maybe we can collect our expectations in the middle, far from the game, away from the gap, and close to our spirits.

It was imperative that I ask. I understand now. There will always be me and you, but not me and you together. I can put these feelings away now.