the humility in heartbreak

macesen2

Twenty-two million years from now, you and I will be mere specks against a burning sky.

And when we are floating particles, only a whisper of a sentiment, long ago, it will not matter whether we did or did not once hold hands as we pressed our bodies down into the earth; whether we did or did not truly, madly, deeply stare into one another’s eyes and mark the markings within them as our own; whether or not we really did, in a real world place, embrace each other in the cold of night as a train rushed by us; whether or not you really did say that you loved me, or whether or not you meant it; whether or not it was, in the end of it all, ever “meant to be.”

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