Temptations guide me toward thinking we had something. Did I let the real thing get away? Did we have some magic that kept me engaged? Have I erased from memory our mutual conclusions that a long and lasting future together could not be sabotaged by even the mightiest forces of self-doubt?
But then I try to remember the sweetness. Where was it? I remember the phony laughter, its shrill, caustic shrieks which wielded our smiles like weapons against those around us, locked and loaded on shattering and piecing back together the social rewards of togetherness.
Did I miss something?
I do not think I did.
Am I missing something?
No. I am not.
