sometimes you're left there
just thinking about it
about your life with it
about your life without it

tears stream down your face
you reach out, aiming for it
grasping that piece that has been
missing for so long

but it loosens your grip
it eases your fingers and tickles your palm
teasing you for falling for it
mocking your lack of reality

how could it be
that something once so close to the touch
is now so far away?
a distant and fading memory of change and hope

how could it be
that something so good, so sweet, so tender
could beguile you into thinking you actually had a chance.
a chance to be something new, something fresh, something beautiful.