Three Years

Today marks it. 

In just a few hours no less.

Three years.

I don't regret it at all, though I know you were concerned at the time that I did.

I only regret the way it ended.

I would have kept it going if possible, but that wasn't my decision to make.

The rest, well from my end even the bad times were pretty good.

Though they were bad, we were sharing them with each other, and that made them worth while...  At least for me.

I've got a bag of things that belong to you,
sitting neglected in my closet.

Some of it you left here,
some of it I'd meant to give you but didn't.

More than anything I wish you were here to receive it,
but you're not.

You won't be.

You've had opportunity and invitation,
but have chosen not to.

You have your reasons I'm sure.

But tonight I wish you would.

Wish you had.

But that's telling in it's own way.

This last week is the third time you've passed me bye this year,
the first since we started talking again.

But the bag is still in my closet

Three years.

Three times you've passed my home on your way to another.

Three years,
and I'm not worth a detour of two hundred yards,
from a journey of four hundred miles.

And that says it all.


You are no doubt spending tonight in the company of others.

Out with friends or home with someone special.

I can't begrudge you that,

I just wish it was me.