Even now, I think of her without end,
for I loved her once, and she loved me too.
But do not think me weak, nor foolish, friend,
if her heart, despite it all, I pursue.
I assure you, in this, I take no pride,
but I'm powerless to resist my heart
or the dreadful, pushing-pull of the past.
After loving her for all of this time,
merely the thought of her tears me apart.
But these lines are tired. They are her last.
-Hunter Workman 2/2/12