The Careful Tear

Stained onto history, onto me
and you, the tear is unfixable.
Days will wash away the intensity
of the pull and push that brought
the tear. A faded mark on memory
will tell me when we were guilty,
but I will not reach that first
writing again. Through my crying,
which is thought to show my blame,
I question what I have broken.
My expectations and yours,
I don't doubt, were crushed
that night. Some moral code,
some standards are defied by us.
Whose they are, and what we
have become through defiance
I can't decide. I think back
to the last time you called,
when I wouldn't move for fear
and shame. Uncertainly I believe
that we might have found an answer.
Two voices fading into silence,
two open questions, together,
might have been enough.