And yet here we are
At an impasse–
You and I.
Where words stand still,
And we say all we can,
Until there is nothing left
But the truth.

It is the truth
Of could’ve beens,
And should’ve beens,
Of what ifs and why’s,
And how come until now,
We know
We both still care,

Try as we might
To hide it from the light,
We both know it is there–
The truth,
Out in plain sight,
And purely by omission do we know
That it is true.

And it is perhaps,
Because we share a tinge of regret,
Do we leave these things unsaid,
And deny it from each other,
To ourselves.

How cruel it is,
I know.
I know now.
I have done the unthinkable,
And wrote your name,
And saw what I did not expect–
You didn’t tell me.
I have been replaced,
They said.

My condolences.
To our shared story, here it ends.
The closure of all closures,
The proof
That there is nothing more for me to do here,
Than to represent
What we both cannot afford to hope for anymore.

There is nothing for me to do here,
Than to remind you,
Of whims and wishful thinking,
Of blissful times,
And hopes and dreams that transgress all boundaries.

I am nothing more than that.
I am nothing more.
I am nothing.


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