Sometimes I still wonder
What it was.
Was it real?
Did it matter?

Most of the time,
I just let it go.
Sometimes,
A stray memory
Pops out of the recesses of my heart
Or pang of loneliness
Wanders in the door,
They sit down beside me,
(I’m guessing they visit her too.)
And look me in the eye,
Or take my hand,
Asking questions
That have no answers.

Not for me.
Not for her.
No one knows
But him.
Even though
He says he doesn’t.

Even now.
With all the words that were spoken
All the love that was given
And taken
All the pain that was endured
All the forgiveness that was given
I wonder.