Here I write
a wistful thought
about the past,
as if there's a different
thought one could have
about a previous life's desires.

Here I think
about the times
and the places we have been,
and how there's no going back
except in our memories.

Here I wonder
if you're sitting alone
or if you're next to her again
longing for something different
or sobering up at the fact
you'll never get it.