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#gastby
In my younger and more vulnerable years I walked on I was lonely no longer I was a guide a pathfinder I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over promising to unfold that shining secret that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew, that the wingless had been overlooked in a fashion that rather took your breath away. I was fragilely bound into a murmured apology of moths among the whispers and the champagne and the stars Bantering inconsequence that was made of infinitesimal hesitation I repeated blankly a surprising shill metallic urgency Bloomed with light it sort of crept in on us that I had truly heard nothing at all In the unquiet darkness continually smoldering with disappointment in the solemn echoing green light. a dim hazy cast lay upon my love your love belongs to me She insisted its too late now he scowled I could only stare as she cried A terrible terrible Mistake! you ask too much she told me I love you now. you cant repeat the past he said why, of course you can! I paid a high price for living too long with a single dream.
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Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
A Series of Beginnings
He chased her like drifting clouds, a beauty beheld, he longed for her, adorned her with jewels, sparkling, brilliant, like her eyes, reflected in the stars. He filled her milieu with flowers, and all fine things she could ever imagine he was entirely captivated, primed to run away, to abandon his world of riches, for her sake and for his. Blinded by a charm that is visible only in the eye; forgetting the heart in which fate truly lies he loved her genuinely, truly, she was his paragon of happiness; his one and only goal. And yet he got nothing in return not love, not her heart, nor her soul abandoned, despised, and forgotten, not a single stem was offered. Now he wonders in his deep slumber, forever mourning, and reaching, for that green light, a love he knew that was never meant to be his.
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Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
In Memory of Jay Gatsby