Day 8

I guess I’m here again.
I thought the ride was over,
But like a man in love I’m circling the block,
Hoping for another look.

I guess I’m used to it.
I know what isn’t true now.
But even the unreal draws blood;
Even what I learn not to see
Hurts, hurts, steals life from me.

I dread the hope I cling to,
And when I cry it is more for weariness --
When that is gone I’ll feel the pain.

I know the process, let’s begin.
Maybe this time will be the last time.

Maybe this time will be different.