I remember the days when you held me with intent, so close and with promise.
It was because I appreciated your efforts that I recognized when they ceased.
When did you stop looking at me with love? I can almost name the day.
The day you decided to give in to your notions, and invent your reasons.
We were young, and foolish. Had we the maturity, it would have been different.
How, sir?
Do you feel nothing? How easy, it seems, for you to treat me like a mistake.
In a few short words, and a few short looks, you reduce years to nothing.
You reduce countless nights of frantic worry to an equation that you figured wrong.
You reduce endless pages of words, important words, to tripe.
I can feel the pieces of my heart subtracted every time you say it was never meant to be.
And every thing I held so dear about you crumbles in my mind.
In this moment, I feel as you do; we are nothing but a waste of time.
Happy Valentines Day.
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