Hand in hand, 
We stroll through the chaos.
Two lost pieces.
Together at last.
 
Division occurs
As we fight through the crowd.
"He is right behind me"
I assure to myself.
Yet,
I look back over my shoulder 
to be sure he is close.
5 feet back, and a little to the left, he is there.
Close enough, yet so far away.

When the entropy clears. 
My hand finds its way
Back into his.
I squeeze it tight,
Clinging for safety.  
The world is the ocean.
And he is my harbor.

I am too swept away,
To notice the halt.
And what would happen next,
Could never be foretold.

The words will ring over in my head.
"it's not working," he whispers.
Yet our hands continue to be entangled.

I try to pull away.
He holds on.
I want him to let go. 
Release me from the inevitable pain.

I back  into the wall.
I'm cornered. 
He embraces me in that familiar hug.
But things are different now. 
I do not wrap my arms around his broad, comfortable body.
Because if I do,
I won't let go.

He was my harbor.
The exception to the rule.
He promised. Pinky promised.
He was going to keep it that way.
But he lied. As so many do these days. 

And who's the one in pain? 
Me.
Always me.
Tomorrow,
He will not be fazed.
He will continue on.
While I am left.
Pondering. 
Wondering.
Regretting.

Our brown eyes have a silent battle.
It's amazing the story they can tell.
For two split seconds, they cling to each other.
Remembering. 

Mine fall to the floor. 
I untangle myself from his constricting strength. 
Take a step back.
Pull his eyes back to mine. 
Force him to watch me
As I walk away.