Kneed

I NEVER felt you loved me, even before we moved to your STINKin' country! You never came to visit, never played and sat and read and waited and learned the rhythms that are in me. Now we are both adults, you say, and don't want to acknowledge to me that your eight-year seniority might make some VALID impact on me. I reach out to you; you call it hate. This is after a lifetime of waiting, hoping for what your heart cannot give -- as it has never received, or really lived. Your ribs really CAGE it. Your mind really canNOT imagine a time when, a this-that, a here-there, a there-now it's alright; we love each other although we fight, an I love you so much I'll stay up all night working this out with you before you leave because this connection is precious to me and you mean more to me than 1 chunk of sleep.