What if?

Was it too fast? Too much?
Or not enough, apparently. I don't know. 
What if? 
What if I waited before walking away?
Before overwhelming you with unsent texts-

would you have stayed?

Maybe you were long gone.

But you let me go, right? Why didn't you stop me?

Is my silence louder than my presence?

Stupid heart still pictures you-

knocking the door I slammed shut,

"I was only afraid. I don't want you to go."

And I'd open it.

God I'd open it.

I hate that I would.

What if we could meet at least once?

Maybe this idea would be real.

Would the illusion have crumbled,
or would your eyes have told me
what your words never could?
You tell me I'm not gentle with emotions.

Would you find me gentle in person?

What if I loved you more in your absence?

What if reality is terrifying?

I would still let you hold the knife in my chest,

and tell you exactly where to cut.

Would I still want you if you come back

After I stitched myself whole?

I hate that I would.
I hate that I might
still wait for you in the shadows of my healing,
still whisper your name as a Gospel that wouldn't be true.

What if I waited?

What if you came back?

What if you never will?