If we were boats, we would be tied together. I can feel the thick, rough rope
stretched between us every time we pass in the hallway, every time
you slide by me to take your seat in class. I feel it pull tight when you laugh
at a bad joke I made, and I feel it go slack when we are alone in a room and have nothing to say,
when we look at our hands or our feet or our phones to distract us from the lack
of tension. I feel our potential to be something more. I feel every little thing between us.
The day you asked her out was just another day I spent fraying at the edges. She and I had
a history; if we were boats, we crashed long ago. I still don’t see what you see in her,
but maybe that’s because it’s become hard to watch. Her, you, me, us, all of us,
the two of you. It’s an abstract love triangle, and I was never good at math but
I know that the two of us don’t equal a consistent equation. Even so, I can’t help but wonder
if life without her would mean life with you next to me. Or maybe it doesn’t even matter that
she’s there, maybe it’s been me all along. You and I are so close, so close to the conclusion,
but something is always holding us back.
People will tell you that not knowing is the worst thing that can happen, but they’re wrong.
I would give anything to find that sweet spot of blissful ignorance. Instead, I’m tortured
by visions of what I know we could have. When I close my eyes I see us talking, smiling,
laughing. I see hand-holding and awkward goodbyes and tentative kisses and all
the innocence of a first love. I see us together; powerful, strong, tied so tight we couldn’t
possibly break. I see our boats floating closer and closer and I’ve never hated
my knowledge more, never wished to be blind except for this moment.
If you and I were something, we would be so good.
And through everything, the rope is still there. We’re still connected, still floating
on the open water, and I just want us to either sink or swim. I am awash
in our potential, I am alone in all my knowledge, I am covered
in rope burns and wanting.
Because this is us: two boats, one rope, an endless ocean, and this math I can’t
figure out. So I pass you in the hallways, and slide by you in class, and watch you and her
glide off into the sunset, and it’s so much easier to see what we could become,
rather than what we actually are.
Poetry
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I really related to this post. I thought the metaphor of the boat throughout really paralleled the relationship dynamic well. I also thought your line breaks were well done. It flowed perfectly.