Because you and I, we’re just two different people now.
You know how life is made of moments, how things happen in the right place, in the right time, between the right people? I thought we were a moment that could have lasted forever. For some reason, we were the two whose eyes met at the precise second, at the right beat of an unspoken joke. We were the two whose fingers intertwined as beautifully as a freshly made spiderweb. We were the two whose voices blended in perfect harmony. We were the two who tucked into each other perfectly, with your chin nestled right above my head with your arms locked gently around my waist. We were that.
And suddenly, the moment was gone. Suddenly, I held on too tight — or you didn’t hold on too tightly enough. My fingers reached out for those that weren’t there. My eyes looked up to see your eyelashes blinking blankly at the floor between us, a space that was never usually there. Suddenly, you didn’t feel like singing. Suddenly, we were nothing — or the remnants, the ghosts of something that was once there.
Yes, you got over it. You thought, “Hey, space is different, but it’s nice. Remember when we used to have that small space between us?” You thought we could go back to the little things, like laughing over stupid things and eating together in some little hole-in-the-wall like nothing transpired. You thought that it would be so easy, to go back to how it was before I wanted you, before I knew what it was like to have you so close, only to have you whisked away as you got lost in another moment with another person.
The thing is, we are two different people now. You — you know how to go back to days old. You believe in denial. You believe that pretending nothing happened is the answer. I don’t.
That’s why things can’t go back to how they were before.