It seems funny that you called me this evening-- after dropping
out of my life for so long. I wonder if maybe you conciously choose
to twitch the strings and force my dance; your puppet masterpiece.
I assumed that it would come flooding back to me, coursing through my blood stream
-- the intoxication of your words...
>
but to my surprise, I remain sober.
You no longer have an affect on me.
Or is it that you never truly did?
Is it entirely possible that I once, so long ago, yearned to feel
unrequited love and thus, focused upon you? In you-- my self pity fleshed?
I know not why I clung to a fantasy of you - or why I let
you continuously believe that what I felt surpassed a physical plane.
I know you not and you know not me.
We have fed upon mere flecks of the whole.
And in that, we cannot justify love.
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