Perhaps

It is too late.

Time, fleetingly, passes on.

Grudgingly

I tread,

Leaving it all behind.

You reach out

Only in vain,

For this journey, I must make alone.

Slivers of happiness

Wisps of memories

Dance around me, in the warm summer air.

Tempted

I touch the tiniest bubble of hope.

It bursts.

Slowly,

Stealthily,

The truth comes crashing down.

And I know

It’s too late to forgive,

I have to forget

For this journey, I must make alone.