Refraction.

Alya.

I'm not her;
I'm not the one that got away.
She's been and gone,
And I try my best to tread softly
Around her grave.
You say that you're ready to move on,
That you're comfortable
With the way I mother your son,
But I know that you are her partner;
That he is her child.
It isn't that I'm jealous, I just don't know
Quite where I stand.
I don't want to take her place,
But the lines are blurring
And you seem so committed one minute
Yet so unsure the next.
It's not easy for you to express yourself,
These feelings are complicated,
And yet you keep telling me that you're ready.
It's okay if you aren't ready,
But I wish you'd say. Perhaps you don't know yet,
And you don't want to risk
Throwing this away.
I understand, and I'm trying to be patient,
But I don't always know what to say.
I'm encouraging you to take the lead,
But it seems as though
You don't know what to say either.
I ask if you need time,
But you say that you've spent enough time alone;
All of those years since Alya passed away -
Fourteen now, I think.
I didn't know her, but I have grown to love her
Vicariously through the memories you share.
I know that I am not her,
And I know that's okay,
But sometimes it seems as though nobody
Could even begin to compare
In your eyes -
That's when I find myself asking you to be honest.
Are you sure that you want this?
Are you happy to be with me?
Do you need to be reminded that
I am not Alya?