84. Echoes
When you asked me if I could hold
To those memories—the things
We said, what we felt, and the
Heartfelt promises that we made—
I had to fight back a laugh.
The truth is, darling, I never stopped
Looking over my shoulder at
Those special times—looking
And hoping that they might
One day come true again.
The Echo of us calls sweetly to me,
But is laced with regret and derision.
It cries, “Hope for us again one day,
You silly soul, and know that we
Have little chance at what we had.
My days are now filled with other
Lovers and possibilities... Why
Would I ever return to your arms?”
Why do you ask this thing of me?
And why do I feel so hurt over it?
It must surely mean that you too
Hope for a future us, right?
However...
Insecurity is whispering another tale
Into my too-readily accepting ear.
“She simply wishes a back-up,
Friend—an endless love... Just in case.”
Which is it?
And, a better question,
Do I truly wish to know?
—C.R.E.
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