It's been a while. Here, have some angsty poetry.
i want many things in life,
but I do not want your love.
(perhaps, you say,
you decieve yourself.
but it was not that long ago,
that the bare branches reached
for the starlit mantle,
to grasp the cold, dark air;
the tumult of currents
both shapeless
and full of feeling.)
even though hope lies still and cold -
a stone on the floor of the pit -
Iis polished surface reflects the planets still,
and promises and lies
in words that were never alive.
and everything dances though
those bent and imploring boughs,
(like sand through your fingers.
like the diaphanous memories
of us.)
perhaps I should love again,
but the night is long,
and there is much to forget;
and a stone is still a stone
in the pit where I shall bury you.