The feeble pretense of you & I will no longer prevail.
My obtuse mind must be mended immediately.
And I will still drink coffee, a little un-stirred. The first sip a sugar rush...
I will still see you in the words of my books.
I will smell you on my sweater sleeves.
You will always be kept on the outskirts of my cerebrum. Dancing past the delicate fields of emotion, where the wild peonies reside.
And you will never find your way in.
I'll make absolutely
quite
sure of it.