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-Confucius had his Analects and I have my journal-
It felt much like love to have you again. I was excited and daydreaming.
I always cared. That was invariable.
Unlike you.
My passion for you wanes and overwhelms depending on your proximity to me
You're intolerable from afar
And intoxicating near
You linger in your leave
And I cling to what little still wafts
About here, in a stadium of time
Busts, statues, and effigies crumble
Rather beautifully
Almost unnoticeably
I'm sure i must have done something wrong
In making my image of you, these hands never pressed hard enough to make a masterpiece
Many a loving stroke I gave
To your manufactured gaze
My touch had grazed, my digits had razed
Is it you who suffers me or I - you?
To love you embodied divinity
To encapsule you stroked my vanity
To be without you still, darling, taxes my sanity
To love alone begs insanity





 
 
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