I read my journal entries from last summer.
Call it reminiscing
or self-inflicted torture,
but I forgot how we started.
I only remembered why we ceased.  

In the beginning were self-issued warnings,
“Don’t succumb to the flirtation.”
“Don’t destroy your friendship.”
“Don’t drown yourself in him.”
logged alongside the counter arguments,
“With him it could be so easy. He gets me.”  

Although we never crossed that boundary
to which friends cannot return once they become lovers,
we blurred a million demarcations
and lost our way while navigating murky depths.  
I re-read our conversations and hear your voice
testing the waters and my limits,
“I want you.”
“I need you to be the strong one and resist.”
“I’m not sure if I can leave you alone.”
“I don’t care if everyone finds out.”  

But when you said,
“I’m afraid of having to tell my kids
that I don’t love their mom anymore”
I cried, “Avast!”
I could not cast off.  

I close my journal,
harbored as you sail on –
wondering if she’ll know the storm you weathered
wondering if you’ll face another tempest
wondering if you’ll ever return to mooring.