Everyone who loved me once has moved on.

Now that I am alone I wonder who was wrong?

The dream of having a nest in that corner with you,

Or the plans of travelling the globe with someone else,

Or perhaps the nearly irrational everlasting love forever?

Everyone has moved on, even the time tricks me these days,

Sometimes I cannot remember who came first and who left then.

Is this still part of my cognitive dissonance or some other heavy word,

Some other form of self-pity wrapped in fancy Latin vocabulary?

 I still find comfort in this cold night thinking there was someone,

May be two, three or more who once loved me a lot, and we had a dream together?