Not that I couldn’t live without you, but three years won’t be easy to forget. You were my habit, and you said I was your highlight. Even if we let “us” down oh so many times, it wouldn’t fit in your organizer, we gave “us” another go. Eventually we ran out of fuel and “us” stalled midway through the journey.
I’m wondering what you are doing now on this cold December night. Perhaps thinking about not thinking about me? Indulge me for the final time, drown me in the river of conceit and envelope me with flames of your desire. It was not all for nothing those three years, either those three words.