time passes by.
at this point you've been a stranger to me longer
than someone i knew

and yet when i pass by flowers
i remind myself of the only ones you liked
as if i'm trying not to forget and
as if i have any use for the tidbits of information i still haven't thrown away.

but enough time has passed
that i don't feel down from just seeing you,
as if i'm done grieving the ideas of what could have been

after a long while
i stop avoiding the song that we sang in your car,
the song that would have been my most played if
i hadn't stopped listening to it after we stopped talking

most days i'm convinced i don't think of you,
but in either case, i know
time passes by
and the hurt heals (slowly).