We could have been together,
have had forever.
Two point five children, a white picket fence,
and then some but we were too dense
to think, to speak, to act
on the warmth we, for each other, felt.
Now, you have a thief at home
and his young son calling you 'mom'.
I have a pirate with a hook for a hand
and our son drawing our names in the sand,
asking where you are and why you left –
why he and I were not enough to be kept.
The last I saw you was a while ago.
Eight weeks. One day. Five hours. Who is really counting?
The clock is still ticking with a chime
which I can neither call yours nor mine.
You saw me yet still chose the dust of a fairy;
I saw you – everything – but letting go was a must for I had grown weary.
Now, you have your happy ending
with a man who sees you merely as a second chance
and a boy who did not love you when you were Queen of the darkest dance.
I too have my own ending
amongst people who see a Savior and nothing more
and an old soul who, at night, cries to forget the things he has seen.
We could have been together,
Have had forever.
Two point five children, a white picket fence
but being so caught up with the what-ifs, we were too dense
to see that the light was dimming within the boy who cried for you.
Now, our one and only has to dust returned
leaving you with one point five and your second chance
Me, with nothing and an ending that should have been anything but mine.
The sound of her heart flat lining did not register; neither did the desperate screams of a mother, who was robbed of what little time she had with her only daughter, nor the violent sobs of a queen, who now cannot right her wrongs. No, only the smiling face of their son did and as Emma's bright green eyes dulled, one thought remained.
"I am home."