ill be counting.

even in my dreams you wont love me. not even in the realm of fantasy and escape will your essence come to like me. your sting has penetrated into the immaterial; infected the impalpable and onto the intangible where its venom blankets over the mentally and physically unforgettable. your so distant that even when my eyes are closed, even when i become the puppet-master of the night im not able to move your strings well enough to dance with me. your eyes just look at me with the same contempt and frustration as you did two weeks ago. i thought i was starting to heal. i thought i was beginning to move on but the projection hurts just as much as the real thing. youre so strong that youre still you and im so weak that im very much still me..even in my dreams. 

the only thing is can take comfort in was how you looked different. you had short blond hair and lips like carey mulligan. you were elegant and graceful, sweet and gentle but still you kept me at bay. away from the warm blankets inside your arms. 

back to square one.