How blissful could simple be if bliss could simply be?  Ruminations of whispers long since passed from memory chase the echoes of song.  Sight returns momentarily, and I am blinded by your lack of radiance.  Tell me, when you came to me that night, did you understand the implications of your appearance?  Did you know how I would react?  You have been away, and though I vowed to never chase you again, I did not wish you to depart from my life.  That was your choice.

Brutally I slay the emotions that surround you.  Let them feel my wrath!  Be warned butterfly, my patience with you has run its course, only madness and anger lie ahead.  Madness I say!  Anger I scream!  Are you listening?  Did you ever?

My past came back to haunt me, and I exorcised that sad demon.  Lies I say!  You lied to me butterfly.  Not because I believe you did, but because I want what you have given me to be a lie.  I want what you are to be falsehoods, a folly of epic proportions.   I wish you well; I wish you…could no longer see yourself in my mirror.  My reflection wishes to return to its rightful place.

Sadly, sadness does not take root in my heart.  Remember the time?  No, nothing in particular – just remember time, my time.  I have freely given you my time.  My time, my precious time; a commodity spent, never to be returned, never to be regained.  In return, you offered me…memories of those times.

My investment was not well proportioned with my expenditures.  I gave much to receive little.  You tell me to love the memories, to treasure them.  On the whole, they are but echoes of the song.  Timeless?  I beg to differ.  It is simply less time.