Expectations

The past, being something regrettable,
Something left to drown in the tears past fallen.

The future, being unpredictable,
Yet hopeful, in an extraordinarily pessimistic manner.

The present, being something to interrupt the two,
Act as buffer between mistakes and possibilities,
Things left to be forgotten and situations that will ultimately prove-
To be no different.

Stuck in a pattern of redundancy, repetition, and retention of tendencies
That were sworn off and meant to be omitted from any future endeavor,
Yet somehow linger,
And somehow,

A buffer does nothing to separate two of the same.
It's only success is getting overlooked and floated down a river of salted laments,
Strewn about by calamitous circumstances,
Which are, of course, never of your own doing.

And still, my jealousy ignites.

Despite the eagerness to create a future separated from the bittersweetness of your past,
From my present stance, I stand looking backward,
And what I see frightens me, so I half expect more of the same-
Holding your hand, as you pull me forward.