Coming clean

I need to release you
Only by releasing you can i release me
I thought we could be friends (in action, not just label)
I hoped you would try
I know friends can go a long time without communication
But when we were dating, you always got back to me
I base my confusion on taking what i perceived then as your norm
I said lets be friends
Instead you're my closest acquaintance

Recently I wrote to you
Did you disappear on purpose?
You responded
Disappearence unintentional--busy working, dating again, but like to hangout
Encouraged, I initiated plans
But regretted hitting the send button
Why was I orchestrating?
When you cancelled, I was relieved
Said you'd make it up to me
But we're back to our regularly scheduled program
Ours is a channel broadcasting snow

Intellectually I'm okay
I respect your living your life the way you choose
I need to move on
I need to heal
I need to let you go
I need to let you be
Without residual hurt
Without residual anger
If you're meant to be in my life, it will come to pass
But there is free will
And communication is a two way street
And I've used up all the minutes I can afford to reach out
Actions speak louder than words
Your actions (or lack thereof) are defeaning
I have to hang up

Thinking out loud

Tragedy is an opportunity to persevere over what appears to be. It's an opportunity to feel and ultimately find more compassion and understanding in events that upon initial scrutiny oozes pain. Tragedy would like you to throw in the towel. To collapse further into a quicksand of pain. This quagmire is even more dangerous than the initial outside element immediately linked to the pain. Because now, you're adding your reaction of grief into the mix--you've become the soprano soloist in the Opera of Grief.