Excuse me while I mourn the loss of my first love.*

I found out you still run around
in the pockets of my mind.

Did we lose ourselves in each other?
Or was it only me?

I know nothing I say or do could bring you back.

You never belonged to me in the first place.

I've stopped projecting my fantasies and realized,
what lust is,
and what love isn't.

You can't use another person to heal.
If so, it doesn't work for me.

Writing about you tells me how real it was.
How real we were.

My biggest regret is not sharing that with others.

She was once my editor in chief,
but now I've decided to start accepting applications.