Ever

"You deserve the best," you said,
And I could tell you were trying not to say "But not the best of me,"
Even though you meant it that way.

It's funny, in the cynical way, and not the you in the passenger seat
making fun of the way I add "m" to my words when I try to say open
and me making fun of the way you try to be so deep sometimes
Kind of funny.

You told me that you hoped everything worked out for me,
unlike everything for us, and I'm reminded of saying I love you
on black sheets that didn't belong to us and the incriminating stain that did.

I thought everything would work out then, like an algebra equation,
And in a way I guess it did, because sometimes equations have more than one answer
and any of the answers could be correct, you just have to plug them in and check.

I'd like to think we picked the wrong answer, the one with the negative sign
that doesn't belong, the one that will turn out to be the reason for our failing grade
and we'll have to study together and study each other to realize we should try again.


But life isn't math or romance novels, and sometimes the answer isn't an answer,
just a deciding not to deal with the problem anymore.


And though we were kisses on horseback and in the pouring rain,
long nights together and whispers that maybe meant something once,
we were also empty bottles and rolling papers and peer pressure,
And you were too old or I was too young and we were too far away.

I told you about my frigid moods, my Mount Everest breasts,
And you told me about your changing faces, your fickle hands.
We should have seen this coming, this seasonal falling apart,
But whispered "I love you too" and fingertips brushing hid the breaking ice.

So we skated around the problem in beautiful circles
until we fell through from Ever.