at some point

at some point i shall sit down opposite you on a long train journey and explain to you what happened.
i will remind you of the nights i spent (shivering, with teeth that chattered like tin cans in the boot of an old car)
on the sofa ; so i would not give you my cold.
i will talk to you of the times i begged you to let me cook something i wanted, for once.
i will recall you holding my camera from me whilst on a beach in India (I didn't want to waste the film, just have one photo of the fisherman to look back upon)
i will tell you that you were wrong. that i do forgive you but that you simply weren't the one.
i will tell you of my 'one' and of the lasagne that he lets me make him (even though this time around he is the better cook)
at some point that train journey will happen for you. even without me ever being there.
at some point.