Could, would, should. Can't, won't, shan't. In 100 words
I could tell you so much without telling you anything. I could tell you my whole life since last we spoke, every minute in my days, every eventless night after the other, every joyless waking minute, every tick-tock of the clock that whispers about loss into an empty room where nobody listens. I could tell you so much that is worth absolutely nothing... I know I could only tell you what you're able to hear, scraps that I'm not fool enough to voice. I could mutter nothings to fill the silence before it becomes insurmountable, but I have no words.
Would words come if I stepped out of myself and watched from above, as if my heart weren't drying in that eerie place where I lost all hope? Would words flow if I forgot the maddening emptiness of these rooms, the eventless nights and joyless days, the desperate tick of the clock? Would I then be able to fill the silence and reach that hidden part of you where the sound of my voice used to feel like a melody? Would words pour out if I chose to ignore that I can't speak those that I really crave to shout?
Should I at least try? Should I sidestep the hopeless today and remind you of the joyful days and eventful nights? Should I disregard your disinterested pose, your non-verbal rejection, the look in your eyes that speaks more nos than I ever heard you utter when we where together? Maybe I should, for what could I lose in the attempt? Where would I be after I fail? There is nothing else to lose, no deeper hole to fall into... Should I fill the silence with the anguish that bears me down even if you don't want any part of it?
Of course I can't. I can't act blind to your angry and uncaring eyes that ceased to look at me with love, I can't look right through the fact that this silent wall between us grew taller and more insurmountable with each selfish, dangerous, and hurtful assumption that you would be mine forever, a wall where each brick is a word I could, would, should have said when it mattered. I can't force the words out now, when you no longer want to hear them, when I know you could and would have died to hear them from me then.
I won't take the selfish way out, again. I won't seek momentary release nor unfair peace by voicing all that I could and would and should have told you with love and passion when I had the chance, when you wanted to hear it. I won't try to turn back to a time when the seconds in your arms counted. I won't punish you for my faults that have caused this void in my rooms, in my days, in my nights. I won't pretend to be sorrier and more hurt by my mistakes than you were by my careless assumptions.
I shall not forgive myself, forget my sins, disrespect you anew. I could have had you still, would have had you, should have had you, had I not been incapable of seeing that could, would, should never become can, will, shall when what is given freely is taken for granted. I dug you into a hole of conditional love, never realizing that it was me who built the foundations of your feeling uncertain, unsure, unloved and finally loveless. I shall not pretend that I could have, would have, should have. I had no clue. Would that I could start again.
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