It would seem the entirety of forever has been without you.
There has never been that spark.

It would seem odd that a fictional character, in a world only existed in my mind
has made me envious of his gains.

Were only I to go to Greece as well, and be lost in the unseen eyes, and dark hair of that mystery.

Were I only to sit under a tree every thursday, and regard the those running, only to grab ones attention, only by existing.

I reached for a book, and no hand was there to meet it.

The blood shift from my face to my heart, and heart to my face.

Only the cold chill of winter met with my hand, and the plastic texture covering the book.

You have the key, now leave the rain, avert your gaze from the garden.

I hope for you, for your heart, that this person is not weak on the outside, and boring on the inside. Such harsh tendencies.

Let what lies between you, be something of importance.

Perhaps if I wait, just a little longer...