Amber. 03.2008.
He is nothing to me. I am nothing to him. Our worlds do not intersect; our past never did. I know nothing about him. He knows nothing about me. Apart for the one night I affected him, we could have been ships in the night, forever more.
I wish it were so.
But now, it is almost sad, this state of nothingness.
I can no longer remember him as a person, separate and distinct. His image has been blurred by all the things I desired in an ideal lover, tempered by ridiculous dreams and vestigial fancy. Who is he really? Did I ever know? Will I ever know it, or have that opportunity?
But too many maybes have slipped through my grasp.
I no longer dream.
I wish it were so.
But now, it is almost sad, this state of nothingness.
I can no longer remember him as a person, separate and distinct. His image has been blurred by all the things I desired in an ideal lover, tempered by ridiculous dreams and vestigial fancy. Who is he really? Did I ever know? Will I ever know it, or have that opportunity?
But too many maybes have slipped through my grasp.
I no longer dream.
1 comment:
Dear, who are you talking about?
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