Dear....

How now? you ask me,
Why now? you asked then.
But the very thing that I had feared
disrupted my own fantasy.
I ignored against my nature,
held close the ignorant bliss,
and the one thing I wished not endure,
played out something like this.

As you pulled away from me
in your own west-bound train,
I hid my face for fear, for tears
would stain; I would not cry.
You've seen it once. My stupidity,
but you knew; I had said
that it would be harder now than then,
but I felt... so stupid that night.
You have it in writing still don't you.

"A 4 year gap" you said "then maybe..."
"Maybe" is a word used by dreamers
who don't know what they want.
Why so, you play with forgotten heartstrings?
plucked so finely, your musicians ear
hears which note would twang, which string snap,
whichever one would break.
The heart which refused to beat warm again,
owes a dept to the minds admiration of mind.
Watching you speak across an open ballroom
while figured speech danced, as did you and I,
miss a step, I smile, you smile.
Next night, your eyes never left my minds eye,
despite the indignation of the image,
so much from one weekend...

Now I run across broken strings,
can they be but strung again?
I tried, you tried, yet we had both failed,
not count they days till you are, but removed from here.

Until then,

Sam