Your name gives me something to look at when it’s wistfully written across an otherwise barren piece of paper.  I don’t even know what time it is and what’s more is I don’t care because time and you have this in common:  I don’t understand how you can move so quickly forward and then at once,  move nowhere at all.  But then again, what do you and time owe to me?  Not much besides the feeling of something gone too soon.  And like time, I can’t  ignore your presence or your existence, for that matter. 

Even still, I long to crook my finger under and around your chin…tell you sweet things over and over again, and for you to hold my face in your thoughtful hands. 

For something we never communicated to each other to still have the ability to survive all this time on lingering smiles and the absence of touch must mean something.  And that something is for you and for me.  And frankly, it’s not going to dissipate at the mercy and power of your careless words.  You misspoke and misstepped when you chose to ignore the reality of our shared daydream.  You took all the rights about this and somehow created and upsetting wrong. 

It’s not over.  This isn’t your call to make.

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