They say, “Blood is thicker than water,”
and I believed that meant something wonderful.
I can see that it can also mean that blood clings
to your skin long after water dries,
passing from something nourishing to something rancid,
like the way I admired you even though you wanted not to know me at all.
I tired of smiling from within your shadow, and when I slipped away unseen,
I found my own.
It was this blood oath of birth that I fixated on as a warrant for my loyalty,
not understanding that loyalty, like trust
And so began the long erosion of respect,
for that, too, is really earned, yet I freely gave it,
bonded by our proximity in appearance,
I expected the same from you.
My generosity my shortcoming,
I wonder if you ever
I am not sure that
I miss you.
I missed not knowing you.
I missed not being involved with you.
I missed not being what I thought
we should be.
Now, it is just another death
I chose to leave the hollows of misplaced ideals,
to dwell in a place of intention, and choice, and love created with direction,
realizing that some relationships, like some children,
are never born.