where’s the passion? out to pasture?

And all I could see was the eyes of my mind, and it’s funny how you knew. How did you know, I wonder? Funny how I know I will never know and that is the way it always is and it’s not fair because for me it is like the sheer coat of enamel that protects something beautiful like the white teeth you have when you smile. And the relationship between my life and what is real is what you say to me. For now though, I will go somewhere serene. I follow my fingertips and the petite bend of the end of the first strand of my hair. Here I follow my judgement- I have good judgement. Are you there?

You won’t be, but I pretend you will be. My world is so much of an escape that I tend to forget what is real and what is not: if you are there, if you are not; If it is you whispering into my ear, or if it is my mind running over what you previously said. (What I want you to say.)

What I want you to say.

What I want you to say.

I want you to say…

It is you. It is you. It is you. It is you. It is you. It is you. It is you.

.atd.