To the One That Got Away

Four years later, he pops up on my phone. It was good to finally say all the things I never got to say. So, so, so good.


I spell complicated with the letters of your name.

You draw a line that separates Ready and Potential, and then pitch a tent on that thin stripe.

We push and pull, but two equally stubborn wills result in a stalemate.

I am a siren, and I live for the days you wash up on this shore.

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