It died before it ever had the chance to live. We were so close and yet that distance between us was a desert of land that could never be crossed.  I held back; you held back. We must have known it would never be and that our apathy for each other was never to be overcome.

I took comfort in what little stolen moments I could and convinced myself that they were mine for the taking. I was a coward that never asked what the true name of this game was.

I used to be baited and now I’m the baiter. My hook always returns empty. I walk through this empty apartment and the sound of my hollow footsteps remind me of what I’ve lost. The flashbacks come in a torrent of remembrances and while they make me sad, I know it only means that this nostalgia equals the death rattle.

Hands in the back pockets of my jeans, a light gauzy cotton button down, rolled at the sleeves catches the breeze.  I walk towards the sunset and my face is shadowed by its power.

I was a coward, never asking the name of this game.  And I’ve lost it. Never mine, never won, never conquered, never meant to be.

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