I sit, reminiscing.

Thinking back to the idea of a man that I fell in love with. You remind me of him.

Of the person I wanted so desperately to love me. To see me. To save me.

To pick up the broken pieces and glue me back together.

The idea of what I could be. Who I could be, if I was with you.

And we lived our humble beginnings as did the last. But in the same manner, the glamour fades and reality steps in with a kick.

Because it will never be.

It will never be him. It will never be them. It will never be anyone except myself that can glue the pieces together again.

Not into what once was, but a beautiful mosaic of divinity.

Creating and destroying my narrative as I live.

Mastering my own mind.