I have reasons to hold on to foolish hopes of getting back, despite having seen the relationship take in its last gasps of air. Inspite of knowing how much harder it is to revive a dead concept, than seeing the imminent demise and stanching the flow of blood.
I am blinded by the good times...the few intimate times, ignoring the rancid smell of infatuation gone sour. You cannot approach love with forensics demanding reasons and rationales. The autopsy is done when it is dead...lifeless. Love is too delicate to be prodded rudely with the sharp edge of logic.
Satisfaction is but an implicit understanding of our own limitations; the ceiling on our demands when the attainable is anchored and the desirable limitless.

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