And still...
We start our conversations in the middle like this. It can have been days, weeks, months and then, there it is. We're praying again.
Yes, we are praying again; the common ground where we meet. Not just me subjecting you to my infernal blathering or you subjecting me to your eternal silence, we meet there.
You've heard my best days and my worst days; been invited in to hopeful conspiracies; been the target of my wrath; tossed me in to fearful waters. You've made me laugh.
You know me and, some days, this does not feel good or pleasant. I've lived such an imperfect life and tried to construct amazingly intricate camouflage (that I will deny, to most, is there).
You roll your eyes. And you stay. You know me better than any other, and yet, you stay.
Thank you. All these ways you love...
They are more than the sand...
I come to the days end and...
I am still here, with you and...
You are still here with me and everything is quiet,
and still...
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