OVERSTUFFED LUGGAGE

How do I live with the way things are now? Are you happy? Am I?

I don't even know what happiness means, except that I remember happiness and I remember you.

I want to change it all...and go back and live the other life that I carry around my subconcious like overstuffed luggage.

And yet, if you showed up at my door, I would have to tell you (with a breaking heart) to go away. I can't change any of it and niether can you. But you still live in my one-chambered heart.

Is it horrible to wish to be seventy and widowed, and waiting for you? Every day is waiting...waiting.