I flew back to Paris. I dived back in time.
All that was needed to be done, and then there was more.
You reflected that I had gotten better. It was not all that bad, no?
No it was not. Nothing was all that traumatic.
Bidding farewell. Losing. Falling. Hurting.
I close my eyes. I don’t think. I drift.
If someone searches for me, I am still here.
The part of me that stays true, at least.