"She might come back."
"She might see these poems and think of you."
"She might unblock you on facebook."
"She might send you a message on hello poetry."

These are the words I sometimes hear and tell myself in my head.

But the love of my life left for another guy.
My hatred has evaporated into exhaustion.

I am a very tired man.
Ready to watch the world spin until my life expires.  
That's where our story ends.
The story of you and me.

The sharp serrated words that hack away my hope.
My empty eyes glowering at this memory.
And I take a drag, breathing out love and loss.
All the while dressed in detachment.