Her name still hurts.

I carefully refrain from tying anything to you; no expectations, no dreams. Even affection seems too much, sometimes.

I walk around town, talking to myself, endlessly repeating the same mantra, because I've still got someone left to convince; I am rational, I know what I'm doing.

I might never forgive her; I can try not to see her face on everyone else. I might never forgive me; for the mistakes I have made, and am, consciously, repeating.

Her name still hurts.