Why did I never write about it when we were happy?

Because it felt so fragile, I knew, of course, even then
that if I looked at it, just for a moment, it would break,
and so would I

My desire so deftly silenced the screaming of my inner voice,
that it became a knot inside me,
even through our happiest times … so many of those …
always that knot of knowing he would go.

There was nothing I could do, no matter how I tried,
And, in the end,  it would be the trying that overwhelmed him
And he would leave.

But the knot would stay
a vice of raw and overwhelming sadness
of loneliness, of grief for happiness lost, of longing
for what could have been.

I would have to find my way

For only then, the knot would be gone
and so would I …