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It's deeply confusing, Having parted with a person in what I thought and felt was a set of peaceful farewells. Only to now be given a glimpse of a far different opinion by the other. No pain, not really. Just melancholy and nostalgia, sure. No misgivings or anger. Just understanding. A deep conversation reflecting the years of time I thought were mutually appreciated. And how they simply needed to come to an end. I'm no stranger to saying one thing and meaning another. But when opening up to someone... I wrongly assumed it was, at least, forthcoming of emotions felt. I erred. I thought the other person spoke clearly what they felt. I perhaps simply just wanted to believe that. And somehow just walked away feeling sure that I tried my best to be human. That is my fault. Not theirs. Thinking softly on that person and their memory also seems to be an offending choice of action. Do I understand how or why? No. But it is what it is. I'll wear any cloak passed me. I've no other choice. If me leaving my door open to facilitate a repetition of coming back to express whatever feelings needed to be expressed is manipulation, I am much smarter and deviant than even I give myself credit for. Diabolical, it would seem, for being emotional. Evil. Calculating. Even clairvoyant. Hate... Hate I reserve for whom those maliciously intend me any sort of harm. Hate... Takes fear to sharpen the blade of its wrath. But off love it feeds the will to hold it. Sometimes.... We don't understand why we hold it so painfully hard. You have to feel that onslaught of emotions to really appreciate this. What I always found curious was the ocean of unexplainable emotions felt, by someone to whom, by actions and quite horrific and precisely chosen words over the years, I have always meant and been... A seemingly hated, and monstrous... nothing.

I again looked upon your photograph, and found the length of space traveled in your memory... had finally shortened.

Here's to swifter visits and painless forgetting.
From the Mighty Fine Shindig that our passions did sow
to the broken shards that now lay remains of that once Heart of Gold
no more nearing possibilities of what I might one day prove
that my person has tried my ever best beyond what no action can move.
So I give you these few lines you'll read and hate me for
giving you just a bit longer life in my heart, that place you abhor.
May you ever softly find the answer to that question that tore you
May I never get a glimpse of what that answer grants you.