And so I go on speaking in tongues you won’t or don’t understand either by choice or by perspective of what “we” are, if there even is a “we”. The true sadness is I am slowly bleeding out accepting there was never a “we”. The inferences you made were all innocuous and held no promise or shared desire. I even took refuge in the thought that maybe, just maybe, you were tapped out of desire and it wasn’t a “me” thing, it was a “you” thing. I just didn’t want to believe it was a real thing that would be the stone marking the grave of all that passion. I know I was a f-ing coward and I do hate myself and regret, more than anything, that I didn’t do something then. I think now that would have been catastrophic as the reality sets in, I would have shown up as a guest in your eyes.
So I work at making whatever time is left as right as I can make it, not for me but for the family.

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