There is a sadness that envelopes time. It is a sadness born to those who remember when they ought to forget. I wonder what has become of us. What is there to be in the days that pass when what is left of me are pieces that have no meaning.

Why is love intensified by pain? Why is it forged in a battle that is fought alone and futile? What am I to do with feelings unsaid and undone when you have already chosen to ignore me?

Am I that fleeting? Is my existence so insignificant for you to let go so easily? There is so much of me I was willing to give but that seems irrelevant to you anyway.

I had walls to guard my ego. I had a heart that was open and stubborn, alive and beating. I no longer have them now. I lost them collateral to a place I cannot retrieve.

I miss you like the breeze I cannot touch. You occupy my thoughts, berating my reason. Do you miss me? Do you notice I walk in the same room? Is that not unfair? To you I am nothing when I have not thought of anything else since then, but you.