"For all the sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'it might have been'"
John Greenleaf Whitter
--
Lost letters on bloodied battlefields,
Flashing pennies in parched fountains.
Like memories of a dream space
Draped under a sepia haze.
It's you and me though, I promise.
The pieces are there.
We're meant to be happy, I swear.
--
I see a place somewhere.
Somewhere faint but familiar,
If not a little off kilter.
I see scattered fragments of us
That might have been.
--
Someday may my heart be okay
That perhaps
We're not meant for today.
--
In some other world,
Some other life.
Maybe.
Just not here.
Not this time.
--
fin
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