I hate catching
Old pictures of us.

I often wondered
Where I’d gone wrong.

(I know where,
But it was no fault of mine.)

A year passes quickly
When all a year is
Is a ‘what if’.

And here I am
With a picture
That’s fading
And a mind that doubts
If anything you
Ever said
Was true.

(I hate your future,
Your happiness that no longer
Needs me.

I need my time away
From a possibility
That escaped me
When you realized
I wasn’t worth it.)