A letter to my past

You said that you wished we were real

but we were, don’t you see?

If we were not real, why does it hurt so?

I don’t need to pinch myself to feel the pain

to know that we were real.

Two years and I still catch my breath

when I see your face or hear your voice in my mind.

We won’t grow old together

or cruise down the Ocean Road.

You won’t carve our initials in the bench by

the hydrangea but oh

we were real.

Some people are meant to be together but 

it obviously wasn’t us.

You are gone, but the hurt it stays

as real as you and me.

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