far too long. What was isn’t
what is anymore. I haven’t accepted
that it will never be. I keep believing
that something will change, something

will make it go back to the same. But
I’ve waited years and years. I’ve held onto
this hope. But it only leads to despair. I’ve
got to let go. Yet the memory holds on. What

provided me warmth is now doing me
harm. I try to rationalize what happened. But
no logical reason can make up for all the
lost time spent in anguish over what was mine. Or

maybe it wasn’t, and I thought it was. Maybe
I’ve held tight to an illusion, glorified by
the distance and filled in by the emptiness of
my desperation.