Written by Lilith Raymour
I remember the night, and the fight. You had every right to be mad at me after what had happened just before that, though I tried to tell you it wasn’t working out several times. Tell me, how was I to be kind to you? Is there any way to end a relationship that’s “kind?”
I was young. You were young. We were young and clumsy together.
When I told you, you simply said, “No,” opened your door of your car and got out. You stood; your back to me, and stared into the woods on the other side of the road and said nothing, though I kept saying your name. So I went inside.
You were never the same after that. The friendship we spoke of never was to happen, could never be. I knew that, though I couldn’t admit it. I had decided to go on with my life and, if you wanted to be part of it then you could be part of that life too.
But you were gone. Lost in those woods.
So, so, ever so long ago. We no longer know each other. But every once in a while, maybe in a dream, or looking out into the woods, I think part of you, part of us, is still out there. A little, tiny, creature called “Lonely,” living out his days there: sad for what never would, never could, be.
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