Infatuated

I have yet to fill the blanks asking for reasons why. I have yet to understand what made you stand out. Everyone does it- and yes, every time, I feel a pang. But disappointment is new, much more because it’s you. Why is it different? Why is it wrong? Or better yet, why does it feel right? Holding your hand, touching it makes me warm. How fitting that the day these are realized, is the same day you were freed from that life.

I must be careful, I must be wise. Because this, with you, is incomparable to the past. I know if you come back, then all of this will be just another pass. But if you don’t then my mind would come alive and bring forth hope that could blind my year-start plans.

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December 2011
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