I thought of you last night.
Perhaps because it was late and I was tired.
Perhaps because I stumbled across an old letter from you.
Whatever the reason, I thought of you.
It hurt a little, to my surprise.
I thought moving on meant not hurting anymore,
Not missing anymore,
Not wishing for you anymore.
I guess I was wrong.
It was not a huge, knee-crippling pain.
It did not make me cry out in the darkness for you,
Did not make me weep for your presence as I once did.
But it was a pain nonetheless--
A small pain,
Full of regret and sadness,
Whispering, whispering,
In the night,
"Someone, love me..."
And I thought of you.
Of how you represented so much happiness,
And now, how you simply represent regret.
How odd, don't you think, how someone is so easily transformed?
You were once my hope,
My love,
My saviour.
And now, now...
Everything is past tense.
