I wrote a tirade at you, but you will never read it.
I erased it.
Like winds over desert, or waves on the shore.
Later I may wish to re-raise my objections, regarding the harms you have caused me; though you may very well be ignorant of any harms on your part-
... this night: let it be done.
I shoot the bullet into the fire.
I whisper into the void.
I forego all debts and let the coins fall wheresoever they may.
Your skeletons are gone from my closet, do not look for them there.
By my own admission, I should not have held them so long as I did
...
But, I can no longer keep them.
Let it be done.
Not only for myself, but for all those in need of a chapter to end.
Let one end, that another may begin.
I would like to begin again.
So I will.
So good night.
So good morning
and so good bye.
When next we meet, we will be strangers once more.
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