Taciturn

in a way it is. i don't mind.

things are back to normal, and yet i am wondering.

the question hangs in my mind. it isn't just there, it's etched.

and it comes back. it expresses me, but it is not mine. it is not me, but it is. this is not hypocrisy.

softly, a reminder. this is comfortable. i want it to go on. will it last? it can't. the world will come back to me.

if they knew this, they'd call it a drug. it is so perfect, too perfect for words.

please, come again.