spying the proverbial note i write and write until i find home.
learning what you love most is what always drives me to be alone.
i cheered and i cheered and i loved to the death, yet i still carried on.
i could speak to you if i ever listened to myself, i could talk, i could verbally enclose.. the many details of myself that lay hidden so obviously between my prose.
my pugnacity is wasted, my prerogative is dull and my mind is nothing but droll.
i have seen the light, i have heard the bells and the silence is taking its toll.
for all of the joys and pleasantries i have, for all of the pretty things i have come to acquire: my love for you is the most dubious of all, not soon to expire.
i am dancing here, around you.
silently awaiting your precious call.
i am relying upon you, as i always do.
waiting for you to save us all.