We used to be. Once, we were.
You’re gone. It’s done.
I wish we could stop pretending like we’re still in this.
but we’re convinced that this is better.
Better this than nothing. Better a placeholder
I don’t even dare hang up pictures anymore;
not the old ones you’re embarrassed of.
I loved them, and so did you, in my head.
Until I heard the words from you myself.
"Why?" "Why did I hold onto them?"
Why was I still trying? What was I still doing there?
This deserted hangar.
I’d said no to the world, to other options.
Waiting for our chance to come.
Let’s face it now
we are the unlucky ones.
and optimism is only for the faithful.
You walked away so long ago.
And I stayed waiting, grazing my feet back and forth against dry ground
kicking the dust in anticipation.
That dust is up in the air now,
my footprints stuck for a moment. But I’m not.
So STOP. stop calling me back to that same place.
YOU’RE not there.
Why do you want ME there? To wait for you?
You’re not coming back. You don’t want to come back, remember? You’re embarrassed and progressive.
If it’s me you’re looking for, you’ll need to find me where I am.
Now, I don’t know where that is at the moment and it’ll take a while to figure the way out.
If I even can. I’ve no one to check in with.
You know, along the road, there’s so many empty conversations
Necessary to keep one’s sanity.
So inefficient in keeping one’s hope.
Dear pathmaker, just give me one good conversation to last the night.