Chance Encounter by Eli Cash
I feel like writing you love letters, without you knowing, but I can’t seem to escape you and you just seem to know everything.
Ever since I met you, I’ve had this feeling that you know. You know my pain, my sorrows, my freedom, my jubilee. And you know the inevitable anhedonia that follows the dives and the bows.
I speak to a public forum and use
New thoughts merging every moment. No one understands me unless I corral my thoughts and compel an understanding.
So how do I get you to understand me?
Do I even understand me?
I accept me, not sure if I fully understand me.
I’m changing moment to moment. Accepting me is accepting knowing that you will know a series of me, and never have known the me that exist in the between moments that there is no you and me.
