this timing was horrible. but i believe ten years or maybe less from now we'll meet at some show - maybe yours. & it'll make a little more sense. i'm good at making a mess when he starts it. but i'll never follow through on thoughts provoked by your looks, i mean, the way you look at me & maybe its all in my head, but whatever it is i miss you & the way you meant more than you should. but what can we call you other than a cheap excuse for shaky hands & difficult breathing, for months & months, almost a year - from day one i knew this was something big. it could have been your smile or eyes or sense of humor but mostly i think it was intuition & deja vu. i always worked to establish familiarity but all we had to do was be in the same room for it to happen. you cant tell me pre-meeting dreams were a coincidence, oh you just happened to dream up this romance. but what did we ever have? you were everything, but we never had a thing. two people so well-matched of bad ages & circumstances. we would have been one of those truly great stories - we'd be envied by the loveless & the romantics, but all we got was inspiration for more bad poetry. i might not talk to you until september, its been six days & i'm already insane. these are the kinds of things you cant tell people about, but we barely tell ourselves, & never eachother. i dont know if i'm doubtful, but for the most part i've always been hopeful. the chances werent always this bad.

before & after