Dear Year

Pour my heart out in genuine. Words upon words, repeated and old.

Why, I ask, do I seek a relationship with someone who treats me this way?

Pour my heart out in genuine effort to explain how long I'd been waiting for those two days.

A year, I think. A year, and I was dirt.

What, I ask, did I do so terribly wrong?

Pour my heart out in genuine effort to explain how long I'd been waiting for those two days, and await a reply.

"."

"Is that it?"

"For now."

Dear year, I am ready for you. Your time of pain is not new to me.

Maybe this time next year, it will be 5 days instead of 2.

Maybe.