I go through my day, moving forward, things actually looking fairly right in my world.  I have a lot of blessings to count here.  

I don't cry every day, sobbing as though I have been told I have but one day to live, and cannot tell my children goodbye.

I don't hate her.  

Although sometimes when my eyes are sad, and I have heard a song of ours, or someone uses a phrase of hers...

People tell me I should.

I think about all the love and acceptance she gave to me, begging me to open up to her, and the scar tissue on my heart rips a bit.

Sometimes I think I do this to myself.

Although I want to feel all the emotions, all the passion, all the us-ness again...

I am scared it will never happen.

With anyone.

She danced with me along life's healing path, guiding my steps across the rocky parts, but wouldn't share her vulnerability with me.  She couldn't give me that part of herself, couldn't be as open as she wanted me to be.  When in pain, I ran to her.

She ran away.

I've gotten over the feelings of insecurity, jealousy, rage....

For the most part.  

For the most part I'm moving on, picking up my life
    and my heart
          and my soul.

So why is it, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, the one thought that swims at the bottom of my mind, keeping the silt tumbling, is:

"Why hasn't she called me yet?"