When you sat across the table from me and broke
off our conversation with your silence,
when your face began to twitch like
some small animal in its death throws
as you tried to dam up your emotion with
that stone wall that is usually your face,
when you averted your eyes as from some
great brightness and said with a cracking
voice, "I can never be happy with this choice
of yours. Do you know how much this hurts me?"
and when your eyes finally drowned and you
pressed your hands against your face as if
it were about to fall off, I could do
nothing but rush to comfort you.
I stood, holding you together, feeling
like a mother myself, saying, "Shhhh.
It's all right." But I lied. I bent
over you hugging the sobs out of your body,
knowing I wasn't about to change and in your eyes
things would never be all right again, wondering
if you knew how much your disappointment hurt me
and wondering if I could forgive myself
for forgiving you.