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I resented you a bit.
Leaving as you did.
I faltered a bit.
Remnants that once hid.
The irony of proximity
with your face to mine
is hard to breach.
This almost treatise
between us teases
at what could be.

What once I drew from.
Numb with years.
What once you grew from.
Sums my fears.
The needless pageantry
of reasoning.
I want you.
But you may
not see that
as possibility.

You resented me a bit.
Watching you walk amid
the midnight motes
swaying a bit under
the moonless grid
of our parting.
I think of you.
With the hope
of impossiblity.
I resented you a bit.