Double Redrum

I wish I could have bloomed in your projections, but instead it was only you that you could see. Me was distant thoughts from your memory, an affection put to death.

After years of fermentation, dreams of you still flow inside. I wonder if my thoughts have any truth to current authenticity. In our meetings, is there are genuine sensitivity for me, “the one.”

Nothing else matters, except for every breath and every dressing on our stage. Everything else matters as you became the absconder, even today you are a mirage of my crown.

If only we could be strangers again, would time have purged all wounds. Would you write to me on a napkin with testaments that would continue until our Notebook parting? Would the days weep into nights, into new days as we age beautifully into life’s turn?

For how I miss you. How I miss the life dream that never was and the life that could have been. Every moment missed is every moment I cherish. Nothing else matters.