Incompatible

i want to know all your secrets        
but you remain so distant        
as you walk through my fire        
on eggshells and broken glass.        
       
You're not made for crying        
and I don't understand        
as I stumble through your dreams.        
Somewhere in the future        
or somewhere in the never  
we may come to understand,    
but for now, the difference is the pain.        
       
Our love slightly fades        
without a tear or a smile        
the way the summer herds        
begin to leave the plains        
when water starts to recede        
and we are the craggy rocks          
baking on the shore          
beneath the summer sun.        
       
We will rise from ashes,        
but the burning comes first.        
We have every reason to fall apart.        
The darkness of my night        
offers no shelter from my storm        
for you are a mystery I can never solve,        
a glacier standing still.        
       
There is no wisdom        
in this infinite sea of emotion.        
You want to be forever mine,        
but I don't look forward to being        
the aged and the ailing.        
You want us to be together.        
instead, I feel like the only stranger        
in this town.        
       
You are always sunny        
and I am always partly cloudy        
each going our own way,        
never meeting in the middle.        
Always about to change        
like aging yellow traffic lights,      
then red makes us suddenly stop,      
before the green finally lets us go.        
       
Our love is just another        
roadside attraction,        
but without it I'm poorer        
than a prison preacher.        
So, we sit side-by-side        
and a million miles apart        
watching the clouds        
bending over and reaching down        
touching the mountain tops and        
sweeping them with a whisp        
of their beard, then changing shape and disappearing.
       
Our love is standard deviation,        
an equal and opposite reaction.        
We come at each other          
from different ways.        
We are not sensual, sexual, or sinful.        
We try to do the right things        
for the wrong reasons,        
and our time is quickly fading.        
       
Our future is expectations,        
our past is only memories,        
but we never remember the          
beginning of our dreams,        
always the middle or          
pick up somewhere along the way.        
       
Above all else, we have to be honest        
and your words are like honey        
and my words are burning fire.        
We haven't mastered forgive and forget,        
nor remembered the main goal        
of an argument is understanding.        
       
We are made to swim          
yet we always try to fly.        
So, we end up          
where there is silence,        
where the pain outlasts the sympathy.        
Our love inevitably crashes        
with the ambulance always        
going the other way.        
       
Things that never were        
and never can be        
are fantasies.        
Things that are not now,        
but can be, are dreams.        
So, where does that leave us?        
       
Our love had an eye that        
never looked inward,        
it bloomed before midnight        
and died before dawn.        
We are barbed wire and lace,        
forever longing for the unlived life.        
       
Our love is floating on the sapphire sea        
while we drift further and further apart        
from fables, from truth, and from each other. The laurels of victory are not ours.        
       
Now, the snow only remains
in the shadows  
and it is as cold as we are        
in the darkness that surrounds us.        
       
However, I won't give up          
on you or love,          
. . . and I can't die because        
I still have poems yet to write.