She writes at 4 a.m. a long lost lover, with a scrambled message..
She is probably drunk,
still my heart is fraught with worry and uncertainty.
I wish I could transmute my feelings, eradicate her shadows, forget she existed at all.
At this point I recognize no good in either of us.
I see no easy solution.
I see only two wounded souls struggling to survive,
attempting to fix a impossible situation.
What is it in us,
that makes us want to hold on to the broken pieces of our lives?