The usual pattern

you let silence take us
you, with your wildly inaccurate dreams, me alone in a busy room…
out we went, our years between somehow left on a dusty shelf in your old apartment
the one that was never, ever clean.
I was your muse and sometimes you were mine, but mostly we were.

We are now.
for the first time in what was forever, I left and you left, in different ways.
I am. Always will be, have never changed, and was honest about that.
You will continue to be one of the most creative people I know.
But I no longer know you.

Gone we are down paths I said we would take, over and over,
“this is where you will go, and this is where I will go.”
and you just shook your head.
(remember, I said “I am always right.”)

Somehow, it just keeps happening.