Long days

[Long days, days lost in memory of you. Not the you to whom these notes are addressed, another you. Lost now as then, though more closely then. Lost except for those pockets in time that seem to remain. Those timeless times that now make it seem as if you’re the very you to whom these notes are addressed. As if it were you all along. And its deadly sister thought, that there can be no very you. Who cares about this? You’re as unreal to me now as you were then and always will be. This thought protects and exposes being both true and false. The you unconquered and therefore trapped. In what? Our weaknesses untested. What else can I say, in these notes to nobody, from a nobody? Who would care? Long days, longer than you know. Circular days lost in memory of you. Not the you to whom these notes are addressed, another you. Or the very same. Lost then and lost now.]