I had hoped for a new dawn on my return,
I had wished for at least a closing of the wound,
I had thought that perhaps I would learn to forget
And find some new distraction in this time, (indeed there were such times)
But no, I stopped wishing even these, and went back to my old longings,
Went back to the pain I rejected, went back and said “He must be mine”,
Even after all that, my hopes have climbed no higher,
No gleam or glimmer do dull eyes see for such a pastime,
A pastime of pointless longings, hoping, wishing,
That only come to bitter end.