I have this image, this vision, this need put into pictures frame-by-broken-frame of me running to you, because I need you. I see your surprise as we've not talked in months. You hug me back anyways, and we cry from sadness and joy, and it is as if none of this happened.
But all this, this broken shattering, it happened. And there's no tragedy driving me to your arms. And doing so would not do any good, because what's broken and shattered is in that condition for a reason. A very good reason. And just because I miss holding you like we did before whenever we cried, it doesn't mean we can fix this.
I know that even if I feel as if I need you now, it's a temporary thing. I know that you won't come sweeping in like you did before, because the time for sweeping in is long past, and everyone good in the room has been murdered and robbed, and the criminals have ran free.
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