Halcyon days gone.
I wonder for how long.
Days, weeks?
Perhaps only until tomorrow,
then you come with the new sun?
Or later before the sun bids farewell,
and you'll be as you've always been?
But the space between us
drives the point of longer.
How much longer?
Hours drag on the longest.
What do I know now really
except that I cannot know.
What now?
Why. Why. Why.
In a universe of parallels,
you are an alternate,
not an alternative,
a constantly inconsistent presence,
now, sadly, merely a thought,
albeit
persisting...
persisting...
resisting.
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