Sunday, December 30, 2012
So it is time for wistfulness. I wish you would be wistful with me. But it just isn't to be. Because you make it so. I want to contemplate the world with you, about you. But I go alone. And you too. Should it really be this way?
What can I do to be contrary, otherwise? I did what I thought was adequate but it isn't; I suspect even if I did enough I would still be stopped short. Because you would just refuse to pick up the baton at the time it is your lap.
And you would claim it isn't your race. I know, because of all that you left unanswered. Silence is a negative reply, I see.
Will the apparition of you fade away from my subconscious? I hope not, because while it remains, you are torturous.
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