for tonight i will lay on my back and endlessly think of you until sleep somehow crawls it’s way inside of my eyes and sends me dreaming recklessly of a time when you and i could be so much more than broken pieces of “almost love.” and when i wake in the morning maybe i will find peace of mind with the new reality that you and i are nothing more than two strangers now, one unable and one unwilling, to fix something that once meant everything but now means anything but. and next time i run into you i’ll smile politely, the way two people unknown to each other do. and i’ll wish you would have pulled me aside to tell me that you still love me, but you won’t. you will keep walking and you will ignore the fireworks going off inside your chest again, the same way i will. you will shut off that clock in your head that keeps track of your untimely departure and you’ll force your eyes to the floor, that way you don’t have to see what you couldn’t keep. and i noticed you still wear that heart around your neck and i wonder who it belongs to now because it’s certainly not still me. and i flip through old poetry and watch as all the crumbled pieces of you and i fall out and i wish i wouldn’t have ignored them but it’s to late now. you and i aren’t doing this together the way we promised. you aren’t loving me forever and you won’t love me now and i’m watching you forget what’s important to you and i’m so sorry i can’t recognize you anymore, but i’m so much more sorry that you can.