Never long enough

It doesn't matter how long it's been, or what's happened since then. How many others there have been and how many miles doubtless separate us. It doesn't matter how much you hurt me, how much it all hurt, and how ashamed I can still feel for having been such a damned fool. It doesn't even matter how much havoc your memory and the memory of us can create for my life now, if I let it.

All it takes is one dream to send me into the day looking for you again. Once I met a girl who'd been your friend back home. Once, at my lowest (or possibly most optimistic?) point, the ad I placed got a response from another friend: a possible phone number that I never called. Today I found your picture and all I could think was "I am sorry you cut your hair."

I don't actually know if I miss you. I think I do. If we spoke, I would not feel good. If we met, I might not behave. So many years since, but something in my chest remembers you and makes me think I see the back of your head--the way it looked seven full falls ago--on the train in the morning.

If I hold this trigger in me my whole life, when will I stop responding when the gun goes off? When will I hear it, but leave off looking for you?