In the duration of a minute, your decisions, your sentiments, they’ll shift like the weather and in every day you’ll refuse to go without opening your mouth to inundate the room with bickering. Bitter, is what you are; yet ample amounts of sugar linger in your morning coffee and the sweetest of things greet your taste buds as though they were familiar with one another — even the chocolate I was so sure was mine. When dawn comes, you confine yourself in a lurid room, a bright plastic rectangular screen elevates your spirit and you find contentment knowing happiness is held in those dark eyes for awhile. I start to think you are the way you are considering the distance is becoming far from physical — you and her are together, but you’re not with her. And you’re aware of this, aware of it, the distance increasing in the midst of your slumber but there’s little you can do about it. In spite of which side of the bed you wake up in in the morning though, it’s evident you strive for progress. I can distinguish the propitious and the vile within your intentions. I can name all that deems you inadequate. I can curse you and apprise others of how badly I wish to see your lungs become black and shrivel from the pollution you inhale — but I still hold this peculiar kind of respect for you.
Reason being, you remind me so much of myself.
