I miss you,
Though you who is reading this,
Are probably not him,
Notwithstanding that you may think you are,
You likely are not.
For all that,
If you actually are him,
You do, in all honesty,
Know it is you I speak of.
And you begin to doubt yourself.
It is twelvethirty at night, which makes this
St-Patrick's day
Though it's not morning until I wake up.
I'll wear green everyday.