Saturday, September 15, 2012


None of us really know what we want, but we look nonetheless. Perusing shop isles and scanning the faces at the bar, we stop like inquisitive ravens only to inspect whatever temporarily dazzles our eye. Yet, amongst everything in this paltry life with its nugatory necessities, I have most of all yearned for some shade of meaning. 

In these moments of uncertainty my mind always returns to you, eternal goaler, allowing you to safe-guard my deepest dissatisfaction. I delight in my own despair with every click of the finger that brings me one letter closer to you. Tapping through distance on this little screen I incessantly hope for a brief moment to transcend the haunted past. I know I cannot. 

I know then, you are not what I want. My past is showered in icy blue eyes saying words I know they do not mean. One moment lit in a ray of light, the next, shaded in a moment of dark passion. You know what you want even less than I do. It was my darkest day when I thought I wanted you.


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