... or don't pretend. This is a beautiful sight. Period.

Do you accept my offer? Or decline fervently?
I agree with whatever you pick.
Because you are beautiful,
and I will forgive you for anything, since you are my closest attachment to what makes me real.


Rarely do I forget,
even when I have seen blackouts mid-day.
You lead the way,
not like an X on a map,
but like a page to a book written on a desk.
You are that secret that I have found,
and nobody told me how to get there.
I made my own trail to you. And you accepted it.


So is this acceptable?
Will you stand for it?
Is the post simply a bother, because you don't want anything from anyone?
I wish you would stop and wait for my letter.
The romance in snail mail is dead.
And with it I have died in you as well.


Period.