Writing

How is it that we never see the signs.
How is it that we never notice them slipping.
How is it that we claim to be so attached and yet very detached.
How come we don't see it coming.
When they pass on, we begin to look for clues.
We begin to search for things to tell us what went wrong.
We look for who to blame for what has happened.
In our desperate bid to find out, we begin to unravel things.
Signs so obvious yet we didn't see them.
We realize that the things we thought they loved, they never did.
We begin to see that the smiles were just a front.
That the things they said were cool weren't.
That the friends we thought they had don't exist.
That we were really all they had.
We begin to see where we failed them.
We cry and cry and cry and pray and pray and pray.
We beg for one last chance to be with them.
One last chance to make it right but truthfully we never get it. And even if we did, we'd still fall back into old habits.
Habits of thinking the smiles are real and that "I'm fine" really is true.
Habits of drowning out their voice before anything can be said.
And then it happens again, and we start the dance again.