Someday.

When hope is all that's left, and it's tattered too.

I can do nothing for you.
But I can do something for another.
You don't want me in your life.
You can't keep me from thinking about you.
I won't bother you.
But I wonder - Do you still remember me?
Do you remember hugs, long talks, jokes, tears?
I do.
I still have those, kept safe, waiting.
I get it, you wouldn't appreciate those gifts now.
You'd throw them back at me, broken.
But someday, maybe.
When you come to the end of a long, lonely road.
Littered with the debris of broken hearts,
Your own in pieces along the way.
I'll be there, waiting.
With open arms.
When all other considerations are dust.
And ashes.
Will you at long last open your arms too?