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I still think about you,
very often.

I am still puzzled
over why you never called.

Where did I go wrong?

Maybe you're thinking
that I dropped it,
that I disappeared, without a trace.

No. I tried to call,
tried to talk to you.

But you never answered.

So I left that
asking you to call.

But you never did.

Having no means of contact,
I assumed that
had been realised,
that I had scared you away.

Is that what happened?
I would really like to know.

And since then,
the half dozen times
I've seen you,


Yet it was clear
that you were ignoring me,
looking the other way,


Have I made you angry?

Do you think I'm some jerk
who made grand gestures
then disappeared?

Are you playing hard to get?

I'm not good at games,
but if you are,
I'll run after you,
I won't tire.

Or are you afraid?

I have now
for two months
stuffed my passion
deep down.
I've told myself lies,
that it wasn't meant to be,
that MOR and country
really aren't my cup of tea,
that the age difference
is too great,
that you determined
being a step-mom
is not in your plans,
that I moved too fast,
again wore my heart on my sleeve,
again said too much too soon...

any excuse,
any excuse,
to keep my heart from hurting,
to keep my mind from running races,
to keep my passion caged,
to let one more day pass from morning to night,
to convince myself
that the dreams that haunt me at night
are pure crockery.

But all of that aside,
and regardless of anything
the future may hold...

I'd just like to know why...

...and to tell you

I still think about you,
very often.

© 2001 (11 october) john r. chase

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