Memory

I believe I've finally realized why you always made her feel that way. So feminine. So pure. The way you interacted. Spoke. You had that olden day charm. You were the knight in shining armor that girls used to dream about before they woke to the harsh reality of lies and betrayal. Of imagined hurt that became real. You were that passing dream they couldn't quite catch. The wish that they hoped would come true. She never truly forgave you, though she said she had. Somehow, she thought you knew and understood. Forgiving would cause that time to fade. To make it all unreal. So she held onto that last tie that holds the dream together. That last little bit of a happy memory.