Never Saw That Coming by James Hartnell
It was because every Saturday night I watched you sleep while the owls hooted in the wood and I suppose it was because I've always been good at making allowances. It was because you seemed like a decent, genuine person who wouldn't do that kind of thing again ( I know you'd done it twice before, but nobody's perfect) and I suppose it was because I too had my past. It was because life far from the city held those deliciously wide, long dawns and I really didn't expect the love to break the way it did and I suppose it was because you didn't tell me but waited and waited each evening on the phone in some hotel at sunset hoping I would find out for myself just why the love broke the way it did. It was because you'd reached that time when it was too late and I suppose it was because you could feel the love breaking the way it did before it did and before I could. It was because I loved the sweep of the fields and I must have been happy then though I suppose it was because you hated the country and didn't breathe under the arching sky the way I did. It was because I was just a place to you, an address, a room where you unpacked then packed your suitcase for another week in hotels and lecture halls while I cared for my fields. It was because you would spend ages out on the driveway on your phone to him and I suppose it was because she phoned me and you always answered. It was because it worked well for a short while and I suppose it was because it never worked at all.