Far back is only half-remembered,
a haze of conversation and friendliness
and peace that wasn't peace.
Atmospheric comfort that I took for granted
before I knew how fighting felt.

It changed when you told me,
even though I fought it.
(We ended up fighting each other.)

But are silent words and implied inference
really the same as fighting?
Frustration and guilt wracked my gut
just the same.

I couldn't be who you wanted.
But I was at fault, clearly.
To want is okay.
To be unable to give
was always going to be
a different story.