A cycle

I never could sense the reason for the ignoring.
But sometimes it did happen, at least thrice it was so obvious.
I felt hurt then but observed it with the objectivity of an outsider.
Then we were still strangers.
Not much progress beyond stranger hood, but now there was a valid space in the heart and mind to feel the hurt hurt and hurt.
Somehow a strong instinct, almost gut feeling that it was conscious.
Perhaps I was making a presence that was unwanted.
And I was failing to sense the silent message to keep away.
I do not know what I had done wrong.
The only error a human lapse in an emotional turmoil, an error apologised
Or perhaps association was a discomfort after a problem.
I begin to feel I must pick up the cues and keep away.
Yet I could not sense the reason for the cycle of speaking and ignoring.
I never noticed his manhood beyond the writer within me, he hardly noticed womanhood much less me in me.
It was strange because I saw the person as one with individuality and consistency.
And I feel the need to withdraw before faith suffers more.
Or just that perhaps we were two best lived as strangers than anything beyond strangerhood.