The exposition trails of your heart
lace your words with ribboned clues
of your next move. Though
you ask me to cushion the past with
a silky fabric, I cannot help but
ponder upon the possibilities. There
you go. There you go again. I wish
with all my zest that you will be a
halcyon boy. Kiss my memory,
not my reality. I am here, even
if it be for no other reason, besides:
I simply cannot not be...
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