Requiem for a Dream

A cat and mouse game. Tag, you're it, but I'm sick of playing.
You say that you don't read this blog, but I know you do. It's a lie, just like all the others to yourself, about yourself.

I talked to her about the 3rd movement and the stunning section of the 6th (oh death where is thy sting) while you lagged behind, and when I turned for a moment to talk to people from my past, you slinked away.

I prayed, my last prayer, that truth would reveal itself--that there would be acknowledgement, healing between us. I was left empty as always.

And now I leave Brahms behind and crank up Mozart's Requiem, the Dies Irae pounding into my heart; and when I reach the end, Lux Aeterna, I will place a lily (white, virginal) on your grave. To your memory.