sitting there I realize the error of my ways
the guarded way I live with him and the guarded way I live with myself and all that I deprive myself of every day that I sleep walk through life and make very careful measures to maintain control
my shame, my awkwardness, my discomfort a guiding force that traps me in this shell and creates a warped and reflective mirror wherever I go
And the many faultless ways he endures the ghost that I've become and endeavors to love my wispy presence
And I swear to myself I will go home and use this knowledge to break out, just a moment, just enough to at the very least apologize. To hold him in my arms or to fall, dramatically, at his feet as he so deserves.
Knowing that the commute home with its honking and its merging and the glare off my hood and the anticipation of all the details I will have to deal with will make me tense and bitter and holed up and weak and it will make me forget all that matters and that he will walk through the door and I will, instead, ask him some insignificant question about a detail I pay unnecessarily close attention to.