Something Left for Later

Just a personal something.

What you mentioned yesterday doesn’t seem so absurd at moments like this. I know what you meant before you ever spoke it. Then again all the world feels absurd to me tonight. There’s a nice breeze, the crickets are chirping. The sun sleeps and so do you, but I don’t mind. You really ought to believe me. The hundreds of pages it might take to explain how little I mind. Something lighter this time most definitely. Where else could it all go? Of course, It doesn’t matter to me what worlds our story traverses. So long as ours it remains. I could write a million, but I’d rather let tonight, tomorrow, write itself. I’m not afraid, and you know I trust you. And I think you trust me too.


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Filed under letter, mad ruminations, writing

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