She Is Unknown

She is my past, and my present, and whatever else is unknown.

I pray to god each and every day that she'll be my future but I can never have the comfort of certainty.

The past is easy to understand: a chance meeting, an unlikely pair, a friendship that felt like nothing else, and a love I'll never feel again.

The present is where it begins to hurt: the truth brought us together, and took us apart, and pulled us back together. The pain of loving her in the collateral damage of my existence.

The future is what terrifies me.

Will we end up in that little house on the Oregon coast she always dreamed of?

Or will we be someday strangers, denying that this love was one in a million?

Will we be married, or will we be desperately trying to supress the never ending pain of the lack of closure for the rest of our lives?

What the universe has in store for us is not something I think I'll ever be ready to know. I'm not ready for her to not love me like this anymore.

The unknown of our unstead love keeps me awake every night.