Let's Be Strangers Again

We loved like wildfire in August drought, Consuming everything in our path; Oxygen, reason, the careful boundaries We’d spent years building around our hearts. Too much, too fast, too desperate To prove that this time would be different, That we could burn bright without burning out. We razed the walls we’d built for protection And called the ashes forever, Danced in the smoke and convinced ourselves Destruction was just another word for passion. But forever has fragile bones. It cracked under the weight of our wanting, Splintered in our desperate grip Like glass pressed too hard between palms. You hurt me with words sharp as winter wind, Cut deep with silences that lasted days. I hurt you back with calculated cruelty, Turned your vulnerabilities into weapons, Aimed them at the softest parts of you. We made each other bleed in ways That left no visible scars, And then kept kissing the wounds raw, As if our tongues could be medicine, As if love could bandage what love had broken. The breaking wasn’t sudden; It was a slow fracturing, Hairline cracks spreading through the foundation Until one morning we woke up strangers Sleeping in the same bed. The silence grew teeth, Bit holes in our conversations Until we spoke only in sighs and slammed doors. Our goodbye was a symphony of sharp edges, Each word chosen to cut deepest, To leave marks that would last Long after we’d forgotten Why we started fighting in the first place. Still, even now, Months after the wreckage, After we’ve swept up the glass And painted over the scorch marks, Even after I’ve memorized the particular ache Of missing someone who’s still alive, Just living their life in a different area code; I look at you across crowded rooms, Or in the peripheral vision of mutual friends’ photos, And I don’t just see the pain we authored together. I see the archaeology of us: That first coffee shop where you laughed So hard you snorted, then blushed Like you’d revealed state secrets. The way you drummed nervous rhythms On your thigh when you were thinking, How your eyes went soft and unfocused When you talked about dreams You’d never told anyone else. I see the small smiles you saved just for me, The ones that started at the corners And spread slow as honey. The nervous laughter that filled The spaces between what we meant to say And what we actually said. The weightless way my chest felt When your name was still new on my tongue, When loving you was still a possibility Instead of a proven disaster. So I’m not crawling back. I’m not asking for forgiveness Or expecting you to forget The ways we failed each other. I’m not asking to rewind time Or pretend the hurt never happened; The scars are real, and they’re ours, Proof that we tried to love With everything we had, Even if everything wasn’t enough. Instead, I’m asking this, Let’s be strangers again. Let me meet you on a street corner In some neighborhood neither of us Has ever cried in, Where the air doesn’t taste Like old arguments. Let me shake your hand Like I don’t know the map Of every freckle on your shoulders, Like I haven’t memorized the rhythm Of your breathing when you sleep. Let me learn your laugh again, The real one, not the bitter echo It became toward the end. Let me fall in love with the way You take your coffee, The books dog-eared on your nightstand, The songs you hum without realizing. Let me fall in love Like it’s the first time we’ve tried this, Not the desperate aftermath Of everything we got wrong. Maybe this time we’ll know better. Maybe we’ll grow slow, Like trees that understand The difference between seasons. Maybe we’ll hold carefully, Like we’re carrying something precious Instead of trying to possess it. Maybe we’ll love without keeping score, Without the need to leave marks That prove we were here, That we mattered to each other In ways that left permanent damage. Maybe we’ll learn that love Doesn’t have to be a wildfire; It can be a steady flame, Warm enough to sustain life Without consuming everything In its radius. And if not; If we’re destined to hurt each other In new and inventive ways, If our love is written in a language That only speaks in destruction; At least we’ll know we tried To begin again, Not where we ended, Bloody and bitter and convinced The other was the villain In a story with no heroes, But where we first said hello, When we still believed In the possibility Of writing a different ending. At least we’ll know we tried To meet each other As strangers with clean slates, Carrying only the hope That this time, We might get it right.