for that little while

Of course it was a disaster.

That unbearable, dearest secret

has always been a disaster.

The danger when we try to leave.

Going over and over afterward

what we should have done

instead of what we did.

But for those short times

we seemed to be alive. Misled,

misused, lied to and cheated,

certainly. Still, for that

little while, we visited

our possible life.

[Jack Gilbert, 'Going There', from The Great Fires: Poems, 1982-1992]

[Because anniversaries of really good things 

that aren't anymore 

kind of suck.

And I miss what I wanted, 

not what it turned out to be - 

but I also miss the real you.

XIII]