from the way we planned.
vacations we could not afford.
homes we could never
stomach the mortgage for.
window shopping for a life that
would never be ours,
but we dreamed it
that way at night,
clutched close to each other.
like we could start a fire
between us,
bring life forth from it,
not destruction.
this can't be us,
the past tense, can it?
I have no free will, I am a
victim of this sorrow.
some bed-ridden former self.
some version of me that you
would never love,
but you decided not to love
the real me anyway.
we are so far from all we wanted;
all I thought you wanted, too.