After December

I remember
Anticipating you.
I remember
A little thrill thinking of you
Thinking of me.
It's over.

The things I read into
The things you said into
me; they were
Silly. And over-thought.
And just a small and
Palm-held hope.

I remember
Thinking that you
Would rescue
Me.
And hoping that you
Would want to.

And now I sit
In the dark.
And crush the bones of my
Old wishes to
Dust.
It's over.