A gentle tap upon you door is sometimes heard sometimes ignored
I understand
Time...
A thing that is fleeting when restricted
Communication...
Allows me to know you
But there is a wall
Why?
I want so bad to say what I wish, but I hold my tongue for your benefit. The keys are now my instrument. Sense is that of frustration.
Lost for words, but not. How shall I put this? With tongue held for benefit, my keys are free to evoke that which was shut. My sense picked up hostility and frustration. However, I question why? The why is not for what I sense, but for what keeps you as thus. I see you keeping yourself as thus. Perhaps I am not for you and that is fine with me.
November... ~ Maggie ~ May 24, 2009 @ ??? distracted again
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