I've moved on

in the most traditional sense.

I have a new girlfriend,

and I really do love her.

I haven't spoken to you in almost two years.

I see you in rare glimpses of faces in crowds,

and I can feel your presence

in the love songs

from the playlists

I used to send you

(and have since deleted).

We were never even together.

I never told you I loved you

even though I did.

and I'm glad

I never got to kiss you on New Years Eve.

I don't think of you,

or at least I try not to.

So why does it still keep me up at night

to think

that you don't think of me either.

I know you've moved on

in the traditional sense.

And you've got a new girlfriend

and you tell her you love her.

And I know it twisted,

and it racks me with guilt,

but I hope you think of me.

I hope it keeps you up at night.

And I hope it hurts.

And I hope you're racked with guilt.

And I hope

you hope

the same for me.

She is my past, and my present, and whatever else is unknown.

I pray to god each and every day that she'll be my future but I can never have the comfort of certainty.

The past is easy to understand: a chance meeting, an unlikely pair, a friendship that felt like nothing else, and a love I'll never feel again.

The present is where it begins to hurt: the truth brought us together, and took us apart, and pulled us back together. The pain of loving her in the collateral damage of my existence.

The future is what terrifies me.

Will we end up in that little house on the Oregon coast she always dreamed of?

Or will we be someday strangers, denying that this love was one in a million?

Will we be married, or will we be desperately trying to supress the never ending pain of the lack of closure for the rest of our lives?

What the universe has in store for us is not something I think I'll ever be ready to know. I'm not ready for her to not love me like this anymore.

The unknown of our unstead love keeps me awake every night.