It's been so long since I have written. Written.
Write to me and tell me how you are surviving this long winter,
Without arms and kisses and the warmth of my skin.

But I was always the cold one, the one who needed you.

There is always a question remaining of where to draw this line.
What is now genuine or false in this unfamiliar landscape you leave me in?
And I know I am thriving in my own time.
I see how the demise of 'us' into 'me' and 'you' again helps me,
But some nights I still...

Yes, enough said.

I find horror in silence.
Noise in the solitude that this evening brings into my head.
And paranoia in the fears that I have tricked myself into believing I deserve.

I am well though, yes I am well.
I am a well of reserved inclinations towards making myself feel like I am back in 2000 again where time meant nothing and pain was blessed.
I am a well of reserved possibilities flooding out from the cracks building my dreams into reality.
I take the time in between to worry.

Every so often I have to look myself in the eye
And remind me I can simply

Let it be peaceful.