Platitidues

The sharp sting of cold air on warm nostrils reminds me I am alive.  Twilight blue brings dimension to the world around me sharpening my vision and fine tuning my hearing.

I miss you.

I cannot tell you I miss you, for that would be weakness and betrayal.  Mostly in my private conversations between the left and right lobes the determination is that you simply choose to not care ergo I must not care.  And yet, I do.

As I lie here in the gloaming the odd rev of an engine on the highway and my breathing are the only sounds that interrupt my transcendental meditation.  I reminisce about events that never happened.  Earth shattering moments that define love, a gentle caress of fingertips across a forearm, the warmth that fills your soul at a smile from across a room, and the awkward glances and trying not to stare and draw attention because what if they do not feel the same way sorts of moments, moments that never happened.

And the blue changes into a golden glow pushing away the shadows and fantasies.  Light beckons me from my reverie and sends my neurons firing in purposeful fashion upon the solid ground that is reality.  And that reality is that my emotional yearnings are simply a trite happening for a woman of a certain age and social standing because really I should know better than to believe that love can conquer all.

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