This and That: I must. -M.Weisgerber

I didn't then, certainly don't want to mourn,
I don't want to return to all the little gidgets, the habits
Or the many, any, thither thoughts of gold.
I didn't then, I don't think of doing so now.

There is fear somewhere of temptation: that is good.
Of the little flames that bind us, wind us
Cut long past the point I don't feel I need to.  to.  to think.
I need to focus on a vantage, there beyond the nose drop:

Beyond a veil of sleep
Hear the wind beyond the window side.
Oh how the clock can change:
There is a need now to brand the soul.

I went deep enough beside you, recently, yes
Wasn't thick enough, even after everything before - no crying
No folds of greymatter, or seeing of faces; any places, not my own
No point by which to explain, drain, or attempt to claim my own.

I didn't do it for the writing.
I didn't do it for the feeling, or the nausea, or the dreams,
Or the many ponderings I'd want to do eventually so during daylight.
Can see myself in corpse pose: can focus on how eventually, my heart shuddered

No, not yet - surely not enough.

It was vindictive, sure, certainly
It was for the same feeling as in the car
With the blue dash throbbing.
Glad somewhere for the rising in your voice.

For then, a little while, the anger: giving in to hate.

It was for the same reason you reached a hand,
And begged me so hard to try to see; to work on ones self.
Pleaded then, shouted in your own way somehow for me, for we, for us to stop.
It didn't come from trusting.

It wasn't for the way you looked at me,
Nor the realization of friends;
yours who wanted desperately to be mine.
How too they fought with a smile.

Mine cringes.
These habits: even now don't feel like proper things.