Unkind
The years were not kind to us.
I do not know you anymore;
and you never knew me.
You are now just a memory.
I wish that you were more,
but you are not.
We could not survive the passing seasons;
there have been those muted sparks,
flickering for a moment,
before quickly dying out.
We did not make it,
but that is not news,
is it?
It is better this way.
You were never good for me,
I needed you to love me
more than you loved yourself.
But, that was the one thing which
you were never going to do.
~ Cristina Jill Mosqueda ~