Number Eleven: Blue. Very blank verse.

Oh hello, you from across the divide of months (nine!) and memories.

I have tried desperately to stretch out my hand in amity.
But away you fly, and I am left holding your winsome smile.
(A tangible memory in my intangible heart.)
I sit here, wondering if it was a matter of chemistry (or fate).
Perhaps, when we touched, instead of kismet, there was repulsion.
The laws of Physics, maybe, have decided all things against is.
If that was the case, then, why do you dwell in me still?
I have pondered your image, mused on the silences I wished to fill with words.
I wished to greet you.
I wished to ask how you are.
Once, I wished to share an idle word of stupid, shallow fascination.
But I have nothing. I have no words, only white spaces in chat screens and your name.
I have little green squares that mark you as “available” but forever out of reach.
I have admonitions not to force the issue between us two.
And, worst of all, I have this feeling that what should have been familiar is now alien.
And so I go, but not gently, into my dreams to-night.
Random crap. I’m not trying for poetry tonight. I’m just brain-dumping.

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