Gestures

Gestures
They met at the pier by the Brooklyn Bridge.
Her tears and his regret,
Her disappointment and his memories.
She needed to talk,
He needed to see her
But 
They sat.
Quietly.
A "remember when" trailed from her thoughts.
"How did we" faded from his lips.
She sat
So still that her heartbeat
Took on precious sound to him.
Her silence had always been
Filled with the story of them.
He sat
So tense that she could barely
Breathe for fear that she would 
Say the wrong thought.
Think the wrong emotion.
Him, tense, had always
Reflected the story of them.
Their words were not meant for the sunlight,
For the soft breeze,
For the rocks so carefully laid 
At the bank of the river.
Their words were not meant to fill the same air as the laughing children,
As the joy of summertime
Embracing  them.
Marking her fear of what might come next
Circling his nervousness of what came before.
She remembered when he looked on her with--
Had that been adoration?
Impossible adulation,
Dare he say
That she had once worshipped him.
He needed to talk
She needed to see him.
But
They sat,
In silence.
He on one end of the bench trying so hard
Not to stare, she wouldn't,
Look at him.
But she wanted to speak
Except he would
Expect her to say the first word.
Words that had never been said between them.
On the park bench, 
He was poised for flight
As she curled into the memories of
What they had meant to each other.
Before
He spoke.
"I've tried," he said, "to forgive you."
"But I can't," she whispered.
Her eyes damp with tears
That he would never shed.
And so they sat 
Anxious feet kicking sand,
Covering memories,
Walking away 
Even as they looked at each other,
Seated on the park bench.
He unaware.
She unaware
As people walked the park around them.
She struggled
For the words again,
"I can't"
"Forget," he said
As she wondered if she would ever 
Find the courage 
Would he find the courage
To talk about that single moment
When everything between them changed.

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