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A Poem for the One who Got Away.

You and I are a desert

Hot by day, cold by night

Magical yet scary

Surrounded yet alone

You and I are a mirage

The could have been, the should have been, the never have been

You and I are a book, an unfinished one

The one that stays on a shelf for years, undusted

The ink is faded, the papers are torn, the bookmark reeks of memories

You and I are a drug, the good one, the bad one

The one that lessens the pain, the one that creates it

You and I—there’s no you and I

We’re a mirage in a desert

The faded words in a book

The placebo.