Perhaps one day I’ll understand why we were never made to last.
Perhaps one day I’ll get used to the idea that you were never the one.
I know in some corners of my mind, I still hope you are but maybe I’m just in love with the memory of you — the perfect you.
But, I’m hoping maybe one day I’ll grow weary of waiting.
Perhaps, one day I’ll finally
be able to say I have let myself go
from voluntarily shackling myself
in your hand that was long gone.