And it makes me wonder

And so I remember,
every dream
we shared
and night
we cared
thinking about life
on broken stairs
dreaming of
no more stares
and
so much hope
but so little
dope
and wishes
and regrets
that
we never forget

I can't remember,
those nights
we fought
those things
we stole
the weed
the pot
but life back then
was hard to find
was hard to bind
was not so kind
but we worked
together
abiding together
forever
and here I am 58 years later
writing a letter
based on a broken dream
on a broken
typewriter

thinking and remembering
about our hopes
and dreams
and how it seemed
back then that we were meant
for one another
but here i am
old and dying,
and we're not
together.

And it makes me wonder.