Someone opens the door and I pace inside the room;

You are already sitting at a table, waiting for her.

I know it's for her,

Because you gave up waiting for me a long time ago.

And yet, as I notice the bulge made by the ring on your pocket,

And the anxiety in the way you hold yourself,

I still feel the strength of my own hope.

My hair has turned grey, and so have all my days

Away from you.

I pace slowly and she passes me by,

Determined and certain.

You get up as she holds your arm

In a familiar way,

And as you look at her you see me

Over her shoulder.

The smile fades away and you clutch at your heart,

Once broken, now healed.

I am so sorry,

About how selfish I am.

Because I am not sorry that I had to leave you behind – I really had.

I am just sorry I returned too late.

So forgive this heart of mine because it forgot

That I am not supposed to care.

Sentiment.

I understand it now.