So I went back in time.
And there you were,
near the porch
waiting for me.

A hand of yours apprehensive
under your chin.

Your heart was bruised, ****** and broken
before my arrival.
You stood up, I half-expected you to run
but the void in your chest seems to be keeping you
at bay.

And the pieces strewn round your feet
glittered in the heat of that Thursday afternoon.

From my pocket I withdrew
a scotch tape I have been carrying since the last time.
And on my knees
I picked up the pieces of your heart

and un-broke them, one by one
like we never left each other at all.
Then we entered the house
and we were happy.

We were so happy.

And days rolled back,
and we went out for the first time
like a romantic date, but not exactly.
I was shy.

And then, one day,
I woke up and I don't know you.
And you woke up and you don't know me.
And we have never met.

Not at all.

So if our story were written backward,
certainly, this is what I'll read.