I Need A Miracle 

When people won't listen, words are a miracle at times like these.

It's out of my hands.
Or was it ever really in my hands?
I think you want to control me as a punishment for what I did.
But you don't realize you're doing it.
I know you're hurt and when you get mad, even like your father, you lash out for a long time.
I can accept that.
I either have to or leave.
I accept that lashing out is means of getting over something.
A way for you to cope.
Completely understandable.
Yet, when I try to cope, I'm being immature.
I need to grow up.
Or so you said.
You know you do as well, but I don't think you know that you were wrong too.
Why can't you find another way to find your answers?
Why can't you find subtle ways to get over it?
How come you can't tell me that you need me to do these things for us to work out?
Or is it easier not to warn me, let me say something that angers you, so you can have an excuse to run away again?
Were you hoping I'd "mess up" some how?
You've made absolutely no sense.
"I really miss you alot.  We'll all be friends again soon."
Then you told me you didn't want it to work out.
What do you want?!
God, can't you understand it would work out if you let it?
You even said your self that you didn't feel right being a part from me.
You said you saw it working out in the end, that there would be some bumps in the road.
Today was a bump.
And it hurts like hell that you won't accept that.
That you say I've messed it up, again.
I wasn't the one who said it was over.
I've never stopped you from doing anything you wanted to do.
You stopped yourself.
I don't care what you do, with your friends, by yourself, at any time.
And I won't let you tell me I did.
I never did.
You said you still loved me.
And I still believe it, whether or not it is a fault to.
I still believe it.
I saw the look in your eyes when you held my hand while I cried the day after Christmas.
It was genuine.
You almost cried yourself.
I could see you trying to hold it back.
Job well done.
You said you were happy to see me, that you felt happy near me.
I don't doubt it for a second.
I'd ask you why you promised me all those things, even here lately.
But I'd know exactly what you'd tell me.
"Fine, then I just won't make any more promises to you ever again."
And run away.
Am I right?
You said it before, so I should atleast be somewhere closeby.
So I won't ask.
You want me to do all these things, and you know I would in a heart beat.
But how can I do what's right?
When you tell me that I'm right, but it's too late.  
As soon as I find out, it's too late.
You're angry because I didn't find it SOON enough for you.
I'm sorry I'm not you and I cannot read your mind.
Believe me if I could none of this would happen.
But it just doesn't feel right to be a part from you.
Sorry.
That's the truth.
I'm sure I'll get over it.
As soon as your promises, whispering throughout my head, die out.
As soon as I forget the time we were making love, and you looked into my eyes and told me we were meant for each other.
As soon as I forget where I put the promise ring you gave me, and all of your other jewelry.
As soon as I forget the new promises you made to me.
As soon as I forget that this time I did nothing wrong, other than what you wanted me to do.
As soon as I forget the way it felt when you'd whisper in my ear to tell me you love me.
As soon as I forget the sweet smell of your skin and hair.
As soon as I forget the way you'd hold me in front of the fireplace.
As soon as I forget the way you made love to me.
As soon as I forget the way you smiled or the way your eyes looked when I said I'll love you forever.
As soon as I forget kissing you and how it felt so right.
As soon as I forget putting my arms around you and the way they felt like they were made to hold you, or the way you said yours were made to hold me.
As soon as I forget the future plans and dreams we shared together.
As soon as I forget the way our first child would have looked, with your dark hair and gorgeous brown eyes.
As soon as I forget the promise of that child.
As soon as my heart stops aching for yours.
As soon as I forget the one special thing I shared, not gave, to you.
As soon as I forget the dreams you about me.
As soon as I forget the dreams we couldn't wait to make reality.
As soon as I forget the image of you and your friends laughing about my attemps.
As soon as I forget all of that, then I can move on.
Or at some point, I'm going to need a miracle.