Finding that you’re lost and getting lost so you can be found. 


You take your pick and I end up with the former. 
Too much emotion, you said. All too much for you to take in. Was it better, bottled up? Should we have held it in? Wine is better once aged anyway. 

Will I gray before we end the oscillate? How much to act upon, and how much to leave to fate?  There is no anger here, my love. No spite.

In time you will find your way back to me. When you do we’ll map it all out and you’ll smile the way you did when you said, “This is meant to be”.



3 thoughts on “Interval

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