I emailed this to you before I remembered that you take forever and a day to respond.
I didn’t see your comment until just a few days ago… You want me to show you that I still care. Shall I mudwrestle your wife? I may be short, but I’m scrappy… I’d send you flowers, but the necessary subterfuge would defeat the purpose. So instead of that, you get raw prose. Which is what you really wanted anyway.
And, by the way, I knew you were a redhead.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art far more rigid and elusive. No summer’s day, you. Thou art a still winter’s night in a frozen and forgotten forest, with shimmering white banks, each a trove of hidden depths.
Sorry about banishing you before… suffice it to say that I have a soft spot for neediness. He is ever one to exploit my weaknesses. I suppose I have a type.
I envy you, asleep in your bed right now. By the time I manage to get sleep, you’ll be waking up for the day. Reminds me of a Glassjaw song.
I miss you.