You may remember how, right at the start of this story, Coppelia wrestled with the memory of betrayal in a past relationship. She had searched herself to trust again, and she had indeed trusted this man fully; which was why, when he abandoned her in an instant two summers ago, Coppelia broke down so completely.
As time passed since then, Coppelia realised just how far her trust was destroyed. Ever since that summer, something in her would question what he claimed to be the truth about his life when they were apart. However much he claimed to love her and want her, something in her dare not quite believe it to be so. He had, after all, put the happiness of another woman before her own. If he had treated her that way once...?
So from time to time her insecurity would cause her to doubt him and this mistrust on her part had tested their relationship. When this happened, she tried to explain to him how and why she felt insecure, and, though he struggled to fully understand, he would accept Coppelia found the situation hard, and always sought to reassure her.
So it was that, during his trip to Ostend, her insecurity again got the better of her and, whilst they spoke on the phone late one evening she panicked over some misunderstanding, and accused him of lying to her. She knew she had gone too far this time. For him, this was the last straw.
When they met on his return, he told her that on hearing her words something in him had died. He was still extremely fond of her and really wanted to carry on seeing her if she could bear that, but a numb emptiness inside had taken the place of the passionate love that was there before. He had to tell her the truth.
"I felt a snap inside me, like something had broken," he told her. "Now it feels like having an open wound. A huge emptiness where love was. I am so sorry, but I don't love you any more." The words cloaked Coppelia in the heaviest sadness she had ever known. A sadness that came down like a silent, choking fog, setting like concrete in her veins. She spoke:
"Of course I will still see you, I want to make you happy. I am not in this for what I can get, but for what I have to give- my love for you. Yet I don't know how I shall live, knowing you don't love me. I can't believe it's possible."
"All passes" he quietly said, his eyes lowered, "all passes"..
That night, Coppelia wrote this poem and sent it to him the next day.
One Dark Hour
As time passed since then, Coppelia realised just how far her trust was destroyed. Ever since that summer, something in her would question what he claimed to be the truth about his life when they were apart. However much he claimed to love her and want her, something in her dare not quite believe it to be so. He had, after all, put the happiness of another woman before her own. If he had treated her that way once...?
So from time to time her insecurity would cause her to doubt him and this mistrust on her part had tested their relationship. When this happened, she tried to explain to him how and why she felt insecure, and, though he struggled to fully understand, he would accept Coppelia found the situation hard, and always sought to reassure her.
So it was that, during his trip to Ostend, her insecurity again got the better of her and, whilst they spoke on the phone late one evening she panicked over some misunderstanding, and accused him of lying to her. She knew she had gone too far this time. For him, this was the last straw.
When they met on his return, he told her that on hearing her words something in him had died. He was still extremely fond of her and really wanted to carry on seeing her if she could bear that, but a numb emptiness inside had taken the place of the passionate love that was there before. He had to tell her the truth.
"I felt a snap inside me, like something had broken," he told her. "Now it feels like having an open wound. A huge emptiness where love was. I am so sorry, but I don't love you any more." The words cloaked Coppelia in the heaviest sadness she had ever known. A sadness that came down like a silent, choking fog, setting like concrete in her veins. She spoke:
"Of course I will still see you, I want to make you happy. I am not in this for what I can get, but for what I have to give- my love for you. Yet I don't know how I shall live, knowing you don't love me. I can't believe it's possible."
"All passes" he quietly said, his eyes lowered, "all passes"..
That night, Coppelia wrote this poem and sent it to him the next day.
One Dark Hour
Who could forsee how one dark hour
slips in to steal away sweet years?
Turn back the clock! Undo the words,
seal up the wound, uncry the tears
Old scars unhealed, that sowed mistrust
have killed this love of mine
O wretched words, be silenced, fly!
Turn back the hands of time!
Turn back, turn back, bring forth again
that second when betrayal's knife
stood poised - but this time, not force down
its blade into our love, my life.
You say 'all passes' yet I know
what will not pass:the way I miss you
Miss your touch, your words of love:
O pain of knowing I can't kiss you!
Turn back the clock! Then wretched lies
from years long past that came to haunt me
I may this time cast aside,
refuse their power, not hear them taunt me
Yet clock hands only one way turn,
and we must leave past hurts to be
All I can do is love you still,
and hope time brings you back to me.
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