Forgive me.

So, apparently none of the comments have been showing up. Sorry about that. I assure you it has been remedied. In place of self flagellation for my misdeed I will give you some words:

Sheryl was the one that got away. In no way is that a true statement, but it is factual. There’s a litany of them marching through the hallways and inways of memory. Lost smiles fading into one another, with a soundtrack of old dirty blues. Small scraps of paper with illegible pen marks, match books with terrible hangovers. There’s little consolation in the tidings of the ones you remember, little hope left in the predictable grins of “Hello Alexx’s” and friendly handshakes. It’s all smoke and drink and long nights left in want. It’s book purchases to fill the time and slipping hope to fill the void. It’s dark rimmed glasses and an inimitable smell. It’s Sheryl at the bar, Sarah in the way, saying I love you in German, or walking silently. Is it not time to stumble, like I’ve done so many times before, into someone to walk with and mimic my muse, at least for a few months. But social standing and poor luck doesn’t allow small allowances in the dark. So, for now at least, it’s a shadowy bar, Pabst Blue ribbon and the long wait that is thinking of the one that got away.

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