Emancipation...? Poem by Felicity Whitacre

I don't need you.
I haven't had you for so long,
I scarcely remember why I
wanted you so badly in the first place.
You've become a sort of constant.
How ironic...
A constant that is essentially nonexistent in my life.
You're never around,
but I hold onto the potential
that you will be.

Soon...

But when you are...
even that is
Transient.
What do you want?
What do you have?
You don't need me.
So why am I grasping so desperately
to this hopeless hope,
this conscious Foolishness
that gives you power

and breaks my Heart?