The Conspiracy

I will wait for you no more. I want to tell you all but can you hear me? You look away. If I could hear your mind right now, I would hear groans. How can it be so different? When we are together and when we are not.
You will hear me not.
It slips through the slimness of the crevices of my mind. The thought persists though. It comes up ever so often when I am not with you. I plan for the moment when you will hear me. The conspiracy of the unhappy mind.

I wonder how to end this remorse, without fooling myself that it is over not. For there has to be a final moment, full of potency, that fills up every little moment that lies inside you. The moment of the ending. I wait for this moment. It fades a little every time I’m with you but shines up like embers when I am not.

I wait. I long. The moment shines up.
Just then the phone rings. Something hidden somewhere is playing a horrible game. I like it not. I want not to be a part of it. I want to change the ending still.
Still it. Placid times to come in my head.