An Ocean

Words have never been enough. I've spent too much of my life looking for the right words to say, blindly stumbling for competence in the only language my soul understood. But those words didn't work with you. After a year I have, at last, come to realise what those early attempts at bridgebuilding must have seemed to you. Twigs and branches to bridge an ocean.

I suppose I have always been contemptable - nothing more than foolish gestures, fake romance and awkward submission - but a man dies when he realises his own contemptability. Hope erodes away. And self pity inspires nothing but pity.

And so, I guess, you pitied me. I don't think you hated me - maybe, in a way, you loved me. I don't know. You were friendly, sometimes caring, always polite. But there were always doors closed to me and thresholds that couldn't be passed. Always an ocean uncrossed.

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