You, me and a tragedy

You are a contradiction, let me be an exception

“Let it go,” you said, as you reached out for my hand, your fingers like threads that stitch and bind your skin with mine.

“Close your eyes,” you said, as you showed me what could be. We were a vivid dream, why did you wake me?

“Hold on to me,” you said, as we jumped and I fell and kept falling, as you pulled out your parachute. I never did learn to fly.

“You are free,” you said, but what was freedom when it gave me a choice to go back to you?

“Stay with me,” you said, as you stood by the doorway, looked at me and shut the door.

How could I ask you to stay, when it seemed easier to let you go?

There is beauty in tragedy, they say

But where was the beauty, in this tragedy?

Where was the beauty, if my heart was the tragedy?

And I have asked myself,

Where do you end?

‘Why’

Where do I begin?

‘Why not’

You did not mean what you said, but it hurt as you did

             I wish I did not

                But I did

                  I did

You are my contradiction, but I am not your exception