Time heals all wounds and
absence makes the heart grow
fonder, but these contradict on
a level almost as grand as our
personalities. You ripped
yourself from my inner ear and
left me all alone. From March
to December, all I could do
was remember what we never
actually had. Mama, I miss a man
that was never truly mine.
French is the only class I am
good at because I want one sliver
of similarity with you. Je suis à toi,
et tu es à moi. I am yours, and
you are mine. But is it still
classified as love when
you never
even
loved
me
back?