I had the intention to write something many hours ago (approximately 30) – I caught a glimpse of something that prompted a tiny rush of thoughts to form a sentence or two.

“I thought I saw you in a mirror, today, it was not my reflection but the reflection of you. You were not there, nor with me, though it was as if you were, a fleeting glimmer. Just out of reach, just out of sight.”.

Maybe it was a prophecy, a symbolic indication of the future. A hint of the tale to come of this life. It would make sense, the way I am lately.

I’m trying, believe me, to prevent it from falling apart. I’m faltering.

I wish it wouldn’t come apart like this, however it is accompanied with a haunting feeling, not unlike the sad acceptance of a striken soul – a necessary evil.

It pains me to say that I think I am lost, as if the ferryman had thrown me overboard into limbo, helplessly sinking to the bottom of the river.

I just can’t get my feelings to come back, they’re impossible to conjure, always eluding my grasp. You then wonder why I am the way I am? One can only maintain the mask of happiness, complacency, for so long in this masquerade. It crumbled months ago. I can’t bring myself to tell you what’s wrong, it just can’t escape my lungs. I know it will only make things worse.

The only thing I can wring from my heart is melancholy, a curious longing.

That which I long for is lost to this life, has been for years.

There exists only one thing that justifies going on, hope, dangerous hope.

I love the way you talk to me.

I never wish to lose you.






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