The Departed.

I cursed myself, not not speaking, 
and the way we treated each other, 
fumbling and muttering, 
to ourselves.

Our faces saw others, 
drinking and chilling, 
smoking their way through, 
with no bother.

We danced, rocked, 
to the blasting noise,
the music chilling through our veins, 
but it came to a starting shock.

Pupils dilated, 
as my feelings inflated, 
with a sinking and withering feeling, 
of discontent.

I wanted to mouth,
my message, 
in such a saunter way, 
as our backs were turned.

The very same incident, 
3 months back, 
asking myself, “where the olives were”, 
I never got my answer, 
from that antecedent.

Thoughts filled and whistled through, 
at that very moment last night, 
biting me, rather unusally…
as I got to you. 

The failing of my task, 
scared to my wits end, 
seen as a trend (for such as ourselves)
was a bask (in seeing you nonetheless).

Now to hope that I will finally meet you, 
after this long summer, 
(what a bummer!)
in order to break through

This Icy Barrier.


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