A Snowless Christmas

Another week has come and gone from the place i was when i left you. actually it's been a year. no hearing you. no seeing you. only wondering what you are up to. it sickens me to think of you when you have not reached out to me.

try is a word, those who do not achieve use;

however, those who have tried are a step above you. i received nothing from you for years. not even a note with just a smile. god knows i can't contact you. i've tried calling. you changed phone lines. emails bounce back. now i wonder if you think of me.

i question this in most of my spare moments.

do you think of me at all? who did you become, are you original? are we at all alike? did i become you originally? no, i'm every one i've ever met. happy or sad, saint or sinner. i must be a piece of you, but i'm afraid that piece is the size of my shortest finger nail. why has your effect on me been so small?

it haunts me till i can't hold my tears back.

even if you hate me or hold some animosity against me i wish i knew you thought of me. you've made me feel like i am in a deep hole unable to climb out and all i need is a hand, your hand to reach out to me.

it's what breaks me up the most.

when i ask people why you and i are like this they say because your in a deeper hole and you expect me to reach out.

i did

my attempts received judgmental looks.

i don't think they ever noticed.

i am out of their lives.

asking questions no longer gets me through.