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Just when you think you’re special
something happens to remind you
that you are but a means -
not a way,
an agent -
not a path,
to move another
to a new plane in their life.
I knew from the day I met you
just how this story would end.
Not because I read you like a book -
but more because
I’d read the book before.
Been there - done that -
is more than a metaphor
to me.
No blame is cast on you.
You thought yourself
that our sure way
could be your way -
someday.
You grew -
but never outgrew me.
You changed -
but for the better.
You soared -
but never out of reach.
You landed -
but set down in another place.
Settled in another’s space.
There may have been
a chapter or two -
left in our story
which I never got to.
Yet for me -
the whole affair was a page
from an overdone series
of my life.
I chose to close the book,
as though I had a choice,
and conjure up my own ending -
saving face -
pretending that our story -
good though it was -
had no sequel.
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