staying back late at work.. i found a colleague's book of poetry by Wendy Cope..
this poem stood out to me:
I can't forgive you. Even if I could,
You wouldn't pardon me for seeing through you.
And yet I cannot cure myself of love
For what I thought you were before I knew you.
hits the nail right on the head
sittin in an office.. alone but not alone.
melancholy steals over me and I lose myself to my daydreams of what once was.