You win, you’ve won. And how
could you not? You have years.
I have hours. He loves you for the past.
He could have loved me for the future but
the past, your past together is more important.
It calls to him in his sleep. It haunts him in the daylight.
I am a dream
to him, a fantasy, not real, not
beside the reality of you. You are everything he believed
about himself, everything he knew must be true.
I am only smoke and mirrors and
willing to subsume myself to him, to be there, to love.
It isn’t enough. It never was, never could be when
weighed against your