Her Pants on Fire, My World Ablaze

What hurts the most is that she doesn't call. She doesn't write. She reaches out to me not at all. She says she will.  She says she wants to.

But she doesn't. Ever.

Life just keeps rolling in some fake parody of normalcy, everyone just smiling and pretending everything is fine. They say the words, and courtesy, but the secret is there behind the eyes.  When we are alone, then she can make me believe her words. And once goodbye is said, I'm right out of her mind again. With doors closed I feel her gentle touch and tight embrace, once gone I don't even have her words for comfort. Her grasping reach for me is always and only when we part, and then only when alone. I lie to myself that how I see her move is only confusion.  That she does care for me as she says, and the lie shown in her lips and limbs are the raucous feelings she keeps in check and tensed.  After all, she said she would call, she said she wants to.  Surely soon she will.

But she doesn't. Ever.

I want to call. I want to be with her again, but how I can trust. Words and actions must align.  Truth is in the talking and the walking.  While she shows a double-face and worries more about others than about my heart, I can't give it to her for safe-keeping.  I physically restrain myself from calling her again. I cannot be the one to close the gap again. It comes from her this time, or not at all. She claims me, or I was never hers.  And so I roll-over and hug myself and tell myself she said she would, she said she wants to, surely soon she will.

But she doesn't. Ever.

Our leavings are such awkward things now. Our meetings few and far between and only at my urging.  The expanse of time between contact is filled with gossip from her fun filled life, and secondhand news from shared compatriots.  I see her more in pictures now then I do in any space in front of me.  I know her life now more in the stories told by others, and the tweets and posts of others.  All details and images about a life I once knew well. The shared experiences faded, her words no longer guide me to my bed at days end.  The phone no longer brings her voice to me. She said she would call, she said she wants to.  Surely soon she will.

But she doesn't. Ever.