Monday, September 10, 2012

End of an Era.

It's raining. I'm nearing the end of my day finally. I haven't eaten, I simply don't provide myself the time. I'm thinking of you. I wish you wouldn't hang me out to dry like this. I don't like it. It feels lonely. Did you mean anything you said? I wonder if you know how to do this. To me, it's similar to this: I commission an artist to paint me the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen. He does. I don't like it. This doesn't invalidate his talent or my dream of a perfect sunset, it's just not the right fit. You told me you'd paint my picture. Where is it?

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