Eight of Cups

I see that you're gone. I pictured you taking a detour and off the road you went. I get it. I still wonder whether I alone operated in the quiet realm...you know, that place where things are left unsaid and you're not sure whether you were the only one living there in the time you knew the other. 

I swear, I could hear you in that space. It felt more real than the usual place we reside where people talk and talk and say nothing. Maybe your eyes gave you away. Though at times, I saw nothing at all in them. I know how man can flirt, how he can tarzan his way into your life and still leave so much to be desired. 

There was momentum for a little while. And I know how people can talk...and make promises they never intended to keep, just to be nice. I'm like that, too. Though, not with you. Not with you. 

Remember the unsolicited advice you gave? How easy it was for you to 'just' say it? Knowing full well, it wasn't your place to? I mean, what gives you the right? We're absolutely nothing to one another and yet, man feels this need to insert himself into anything and everything. 

You disappointed me in such a big way. I can't really explain it. It feels as if so much life was lived in that silence and yet, I can't prove it was real. And, you're off the hook. I'm the one living in dream...in illusion? Am I delusional? I can't be delusional. 

I'm the high priestess who sees and knows and remains silent. I'm the one who holds you to a higher standard, who keeps you in check, who maintains boundaries.