this is what chance means, what reaching out
means
when you think it's enough you're afraid it never
is, or will be
and so perhaps you were gulled, we all like
a pretty face
but conscience-clean you can say you tried
you will always wonder
what the hell you were thinking
and it will hurt, and you will wake
screaming/cringing-thinkingtoomuch
you will pause, mid-step, mid-breath
screw your features into a knot
exhale
ignore the girl you were not
and never was, maybe never could be--
not for the staid is el dorado,
not for the cautious the possibility of dreaming.
when you reached for his hand and it wasn't there
whether he took it away, or didn't notice, or reached for another's
something shattered
what the hell was he thinking?
but he lost
you
won-- or not.
does it matter, a game?
set. checkmate.
love all.
in the beauty of a moment
in the moment of a breath
in the breath of a flash in the eye of a storm
this is what the hell you were thinking.
nowhere near what you wrote, babe, but i only want you to know-- maybe what the hell you were thinking is the right way to think, no matter how painful or cringeworthy the ending.