I blamed it on timing, parallel worlds, distant stars
And the difficulty from rivers to unpaved roads to you.
I came up with every theory and every metaphor
Blaming it on being a prisoner of my own secret garden
Calling our timing different seasons
And asking you to forget about the Old World and enter the New.
I idolized you until my heart bled dry
Then I recognized your flaws and what I hated most about you
And the scar tissue grew and I loved you even more.
I showed up every day through rainy weather and turbulent “may days”
To reach you and every day you chose to whistle
Another tune for a brave new start with someone else.
And in the end all I can do is stare at a mirror and state
“It’s all your fault.”
You could never admit you cared.
And I tried more than you ever did and I can live with that.
Can you?