How do I manage to lie awake
long after the sun disappears and the moon and stars light up the darkness surrounding me
just like you used to.
I'm not sure how after all this time
you haunt me more than just in my dream of happier times
like going on car rides for hours or walking aimlessly around your neighborhood
just for something to do.
Instead I have endless thoughts of what didn't happen:
the zoo date that never surfaced,
the cute little surprises you always told me not to tempt you with,
the picking me up at my front door before a big night you promised I would never forget.
I guess you were right about that part; I never did

forget. And as I lie here hopelessly in love with the ideas I still have of what we will be, are, or more like used to be,
I'm haunted more by what wasn't said than what was. Secrets don't make friends
which explains why we turned into enemies.
Or more like frenemies;
not friends and not enemies,
just strangers with a lifetime of memories.