the mending of the heart, again

What mended her heart was that they were able to talk, talk aloud, to each others faces one last time, at least for now. What mended her heart was that it could be so civil the saying of things such as I need to be alone, I am scared of being alone, and the saying of I need more, I need consistency and it all being true. True for then. True for now. True.

Because endings don’t always happen so simply. So simply they do not occur. But maybe, maybe this time, the back and forth, the dances of desires, the limbo of companionship had finally reached its epilogue. It’s easier to let go, let go when you are ready. If if you don’t want to. Even if you too are scared of being alone. Fear of being alone. Is why I stayed. I was willing to except the inconsistency, the warmth, the coldness enveloped in smiles and looks and funny looks or winks or the food network planning or food concoctions or dancing to nothing and everything all at once. Because it was warm enough. But it would get cold too quickly. This was new for her, the not being alone, the having a man in her life, for this long. Bad timing her mo, her story. Bad timing again it would seem. For him, being alone, him being alone, he didn’t know how to do it. So he held onto her as she filled the void of what complete loneliness could bring. These two held onto together as long as they could until, until, until mending their own hearts, their hearts, meant the connection between the two could not be. Could not be.

I hate saying goodbye. But sometimes you have to. When you know that the loneliness is the glue that sticks you together. When you know the person can only be there sometimes. What mended my heart was it felt okay the goodbye, the day I met him, the day we just left, and all the days in between. I have dated many men but not all leave you with a mark, a mark that you don’t want to let go of. What mended her heart was the honesty, the words of honesty finally spoken. What would mend his heart, she wasn’t sure. But she knew, she knew it wasn’t meant for her mending. Her mending. His heart must be mended on his own. On his own. What mended her heart was she knew it was real, real enough to walk away. Because settling for once awhile could never be enough.

What mended her heart was she knew it would be mended by the resolution, peace of mind, the constant worry of where they stood now no longer. What mended her heart surprised her. It surprised her because it was the ending she feared all along. It had never been enough. But she had been honest enough to see it. See it. Friends. I will see you again. Mending meant ending. Ending always felt awful but this time it felt more like it would be okay. I would be okay. And being lonely, what would mend her heart, what would mend his heart, was the end for them, for now, forever. No one knew. But she did know this. Mending, the mending of the heart was beginning at least today, at least for today. Today. Or tomorrow. What mends her heart was that he finally admitted he too needed the mending. Alone. We weren’t alone.