It's odd, isn't it? It feels like we're back at square one, but perhaps from your view it's negative one. Surely you couldn't still couldn't be holding on to those tattered words? I don't remember the significance anymore, but you treat them as if they were timeless, something that couldn't be tainted by opinion or argument. I can't remember, I don't want to remember anymore.
I sometimes look into the mirror and examine my eyes. Maybe it's just me, but they have gotten brighter, they looked so dark before, it felt like that little flame had been snuffed out completely from under my nose. And then came you. Yours were a light hazel, calm and vigilant. It was like staring into a clockwork owl. You always did have that shroud of charisma, wisdom, and patience of which I strive to achieve.
Some days, I could hear faint crying echoing through the brass halls.
Just a bit more time, and maybe things would have ended better. You played your queen tactically, and eliminated by brooks and half the pawns. Calling checkmate before the game neared any solution, I was caught by surprised. And just as the words parted your lips, I was sitting there, waking up from the melancholy thoughts, to the realization that you were never really there, that you were but an aspiration, a dream... simple hope.
...I may have been alone, but knowing you were a small part of me lit up the fire within a bit. I just wish you'd held my hand a bit longer, I'm not ready to grow up yet.