You were always there, albeit fleeting,
for three long years, you came and went from my line of vision.
So why now? Why him? Why me? What am I repeating?
Do the patterns in my life need serious revision?
I remember November,
nerves in a new city,
locked down in surrender,
refusing everyone’s pity.
In the fight for survival,
I did not pay attention.
I wage silent battles within my soul,
which has long been a black hole
where dreams of vulnerability go to die
too tired to fight, to try,
That is,
Until I dreamed of him.
Broken, before he has even held my heart,
I silently fall apart,
Tears fill the deep blue sea
Why him? Why now? Why me?
Whimsical Wordsmith 