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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