How is it that I
wait for a date that doesn’t exist anymore?
Why is it that I remember
it right from the beginning?
Why do I remember
where we sat and what you said?
Is it because you
never really let me forget?
Why is it that I have
to explain myself everywhere,
But the one place,
where I never have to, shut down?
How come you’re
not willing to cross this excruciating distance?
Is it because gratitude fastens its claws around your wrists?
Or is it because,
deep within, all I have become is just a happy memory?
