It is my burden to miss those I can no longer have, you more than most.
That line is so fine, between missing you and remembering you falsely, time makes that line finer still.
When I asked for time you gave it. There has not been a single way you have ignored that ask, despite how much I wish you would.
To cross that line and find me here, where I have always been.
If by some chance you were here again, my broken heart would push you away, despite how much I wish you would pull me close anyways.
To cross that line and find me here, hands still subtly reaching in your direction.
I would tell you I do not miss you, and certainly do not love you, despite how much I wish to hear you say you do.
To cross that line and find me here, remembering all the ways we will never be again.
That line is so fine, between holding myself steady and crumbling as I stare at the boundaries I wish you would cross.
A Series of Observations 