I know that you watch me. Don't you think I can tell. I know you creep on me. I've felt your presence near. I know you still think of me. I think of you too sometimes. I know you see me in lucid dreams. In ways that you obviously can't help yourself. But you don't think I see you watching me. Watching from inside my eyes. Conjured up in my dreams and night terrors. Like a deja vu that I do not want. The truly despicable part of it is that I wanted you to see me- always. I felt the empty, opaque scream of you without me. A fracture that caused me tremendous pain. Caused me to breakdown. To tremble before you. Not anymore. Now I lick wounds once deep. Now healing and hoping although cynical to the last. You lash out from afar still clinging to your rage. It's quite nasty and unbecoming. But I expected no less all along. This is the pattern. So boring and predictable. I'm not sure what I did to deserve the ire of your i. There was a time I thought about m...
The further adventures of a well-lived life explored.