Not over

I sort of feel like

it’s over and not over,

like sort of in-between:

desire and disappointment

entwined so much that you

can’t let go, well, not now, for

there’s history and touches that

take you back to what was and

the promise of what could have been.


So, it’s not over and the living is

easy of a sort and days go by and

you forget that it is not what it should

be and never will be, never can be, again.