I wish we were each other, then we couldn’t judge; call it a deuce, for we knew every single detail fervently. To recognize our mistakes, our lapses, and the part before everything went wrong. Know that it’s too late to start over again.
For some reason, I think about how well we are doing. The time ticking ticks over the wounds, neither healing nor forgetting. None of them seem to matter, for I became numb. I might feel lost, but I wouldn’t regret it.
Remember, we were once inseparable, but now we can’t breathe the same air. It’s such a shame we’ve lost the spark; we’ve been isolated in the past. Was it dark, or was I alone? Perhaps she found her way out of this mess.
Now we were just strangers who knew each other, a creepy fact that will always linger. Ghosts are real; the poltergeists brought torment to the present. History is to be preserved, certainly not relived.
The trauma brought terror and wreaked havoc on the trust that now lives in doubt. An impaired heart invoked detriment, wanting to be fixed by anything. Still, the day we met was the day I’ll always want to remember.
