Nguyet Mai

You were never meant to be my destination, but my starting point. 

I am here, a million miles away from you, 

where you are nothing but a distant memory. 

The wound no longer hurts. There is no scar.

You no longer appear in my mind. And if you do, 

I remember you as an alley cat, 

impressionable but insignificant as I continue to drive pass, 

heading to my destination that isn’t you, 

a destination that was never meant to be you.

And it’s sad to see so clearly now, 

that the further I am from you, 

the closer I am to myself. 

And it’s sad to think that someone who had meant so much 

is now a distant memory.

Your footprint, 

which once left an imprint on my heart, is gone. 

But how could we have known that my heart was a desert, 

that every human’s heart is a desert called time?