i have regretted so much.
i have wished i did not give away my first iphone and tight clothes to a man who also took
my faith.
i have wished i did not give so much time to fighting those long distance fights and crying useless tears.
i have wished i did not buy the house in that flat town.
why didn't i listen to the warning in my heart the night before i signed the papers?

the months before i was married i was tormented by panic and anxiety. depression followed.

i wish i had known i didn't have to do it, and that my vow of un-forever was the red flag i was waving at myself
 
    i regret the way i left, finally.

i spent two years in a new foreign land trying to adjust, trying to hide, pretending all kinds of things and not being on my feet
  i regret falling into that dreamland for those years.

you, though.
you, i am glad i agreed to shisha and to see you again.
i used to sit still in your presence as you went about your life, totally absorbed in a physical sensation of total peace and bliss. i didn't know what that was, or why. but i knew i was good in that space.

there was never a crash or boom or fireworks. it was soft. just pure soft.
relaxed. somehow familiar.
i am glad for the way i felt like i was home with you. from the first night we sat on the couch together, i felt at home.

i wish i had been able to trust it.

i wish you had been able to trust it.

you fell off too.
you ran away and hid. it wasn't only me whose wounds were showing.

i still don't regret it. i wish we could have been less afraid.

maybe the time you spent in exile was much like mine.

survivors.

i meant to wrap you up in my safest blanket and also for you to be my shield.
      i am careful now, remembering how i have regretted, that i do not give too much, or take too much, or lean too much, or push too much.
    i have wailed for men whose whole lives have not held as much strength as your last wednesday morning.
  I have given away treasures to men whose whole lives have not contained as much integrity as you show to a rival team.
 
     you, stripped of everything you thought was yours, (country, family, friends, security, language, freedom, justice, belonging, future) have built for me an empire of security.

   you, with shaky hands and unstable footing, have tended a path for me so beautiful and solid that i weep with gratitude.

     as much as i gave, you gave more.
as honest as i was, you told more truth.
   as safe as i made you feel, i felt most protected.