As time moved on, as it always does,
the spaces in between continued to grow.
Once initially filled with great anticipation,
new sprouts pushing through the melting snow.
Turned to boredom on the long summer nights,
followed by despair on the cold winds’ blow.

In those spaces I would look for you,
lost among the wildflowers, I’d imagine.
Crafting stories of your adventures away;
rivaling your own once you appeared again.
Both of us contributing to my willing illusion,
knowing the outcome once reality set in.

But I discovered something slowly growing.
Illusory, but gradually taking shape,
transforming out of my longing for you.
First into anger, then into shame and disgust.
Until of it all, I'd had enough,
and with it I alchemized
self love and trust.
© Buffy Lee