Mar 21, 2013
Sifting through the past
I stumble upon your words.
It’s nice to hear your voice again
even if it’s only in my head.
I can’t help myself from wondering
how you’re doing, and what you’re like now.
But every time the question arises
I resign myself to never knowing the answer.
With each passing day
our time together becomes more story than memory.
I always knew this is how it would be
but it’s sad in a way that doesn’t make me cry.