And so it meant much more than expected, which didn't fail to seem to fail. But did he ever found out not quite not yet, whether or not attraction cared to fade, and hopefully. He might never find out. Thus, out of the chemistry of comets and their celestial promise to flirt by, sometimes again, he built a life of endearing so-so formulas, kept out of the private eye, out of his own heart. Asunder: rambled on a broken track, the trains of a crossed-fingers promise. The joker in a one-card deck. I failed to pick up.

Can one alone become? Can one alone just be? As a self-entertaining memory fails to project that which is to come. Glee, passes by. And becomes memory. Yet, can one alone become?

Out of the written word and inside, a singular threat of not doing this again, ever, if not by diving into it again. But never along with the sea of words. Never along with the undertow. Never drifting again ever no more.

And by the time the waves failed to crash. By the time the sea was calm. I found myself miles away. From where I had begun.