Spilled Ink from the Vault

You asked me why, but we know 
hearts are fickle things.
Mine is fractious,
captious,
captivated.
I thought leaving him
was the bravest thing 
I’d ever do, until you 
captured my heart and I chose
to stay.
Fresh out of heart break and regret,
I chose love,
I chose you.
We were transparent,
we both knew it was terminal
and either of us would have understood
if the other walked away.
There had been no vows. 
Promises that are never made
cannot be broken, and you,
unlike him, have been honest,
respectful.  
You know well how my pleasure
likes to flirt with pain,
and we knew it would hurt regardless.
I cannot deny I feared this ache,
nor can I deny this is a crueller torture 
than even I predicted.  
Tears roll down my face 
in the spa in the rain, 
and as the three rivers coalesce,
the stoic mask is rebuilt.
My heart has labyrinthine logic:
she grieves the loss of a touch she never felt,
arms that held her not,
lips that never tattooed hers
with desire and possession.
And yet
the mark you leave is more indelible
than any inked scar,
and I would not trade this heartache
to go back in time
and not love you.