you've been terribly inclined for him
since longer than you thought:
six months rather than three.
nostalgia, maybe
or just the curiosity of
looking back.
everything seems out of place
you can't find what you're looking for
and documents are constantly lost.
yet all the while, he is
a solitary figure.
hearts beat, not one at a time
but many at a time, and for many.
he knows this.
the outdoors are now foreign
and the ones you love are too
but now, you can't tell if it's
your fault or their's.
maybe the man with the brick face
triangle eyes and silent composure
will never ever know how you feel.
maybe, not matter how many times
you search for skin
for eyes
he will never fully understand
and will be blinded by veils
of uncertainty for his own being.
there are other's, and there will be
painted black, as if to blend in to the
night
but still you see them clearly.
and in this state
you think of apartments and cooking
and to change the course of direction
would be the most foolish decision
you could ever make.
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