While It Lasted

The death of a dream is a difficult thing, and moreso when your own hand must deal the killing stroke. 

It was a secret, she whispered, and now you've gone and ruined it. You made me think about it, really think about it. Made me try to understand it. Made me realize the truth about it. Made me give it up. 

Now it has to die, she says, and she cries for what never was in the first place.