The Comforts of Past & the Pains of Present

I know that my mind should no longer stray to thoughts of you,
but with every passing day, with every failed attempt,
I wonder if I have wandered outside of my arena,
where the dramatics were under my hand,
and my sleep was not so restless.

In this new terrain, I can see the old crumbling,
my past decaying, the bridges are burning fast.
Being rejected from one, and not fully accepted by another,
I learn to walk my tightrope, keeping steady,
aided by the thoughts of what I used to have.

It is easy to speak with someone of bliss,
the imagery is woven of words alone,
and while pleasing for a short while,
that person is still lone at night, still yearning,
watching my wants flee farther into foreign land.