Sunday, June 15, 2008

Irrelevant.


You get so caught up in the superficial, that you lose sight of what's real.
I am what you asked for; born of your prayers and tears.
I am what poets write about; what sonnets and epics were for.
I am that beautiful thing, that fleeting touch, and that kiss upon the wind.
I am the love of fiction put into physical form.
I am what philosophers dream: honest, emotionally available, and self assured.
I was the one who would have loved you.

That was me. I was that guy. Perhaps next time you'll see me.

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