I slipped,
but I think it was just that I had not been asking very much about you,
and that was because I knew very little about me,
in fact,
Nothing was as it seemed because I did had trouble discerning right from wanting the wrong things,
Maybe if I retired from all of this,
we could get this straight,
you and me,
we could breathe in the same airspace for once,
but I think it was just that you did not want me to be happy,
really and truly,
and it was not because misery loved company,
it was because misery was stagnant,
and contentment left me nothing to write about,
save for my naive need for nostalgia
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