Twenty-one.

I never thought
that I'd be at this place,
where seeing you
doesn't feel like a punch
to the chest.
But I'm looking
at your beautiful face
with your bright blue eyes
and it doesn't feel like
it did before, the pain
is a dull ache
and it doesn't paralyze
me like it used to.

Almost.

This is really just
wishful thinking -
that one day I will
see you and it won't
make my heart
pound, that I won't
dream of you that night,
of what I wish had
happened, instead of
what really did.