Questions

My breath still trips just a little bit, and my heart clutches
When imperfect memories augmented by frozen moments
Show me again that boy with his wide, rare, charming grin
That bit of humour and mischief; the intensity that stayed
The direction that did not.

And I wonder if I am to remain eternally, impossibly, forever
In love
With a slender shade of the past.

Neruda

I’m a bit lost, a bit adrift
Straying along the galaxy
Sleep deprived a little
Working overtime. Yes.

Wondering about loss and pain
and what they mean, really.

How very unfair it is that

some few can drive daggers into hearts &
some have and some lose, but all hurt

What does it matter anyhow?

Nothing is to stay, and maybe just maybe neruda was too full of pain and bitterness to see:
He had her once. He’ll never forget. And for those moments she was only his. You can’t control or be sure of what will happen. Or what happened before. And if ownership is a concept real, then to have had is to have, because you’ll never lose your past unless you choose to.

Or you forget.