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?