The following post was from my original blog on ronincyberpunk.com, it is archived here for posterity purposes
It's been a while since I wrote an intraverted thought, or at least it has felt like blessedly long, but tonight I feel pretty lonely. I'm tempted to close my door and bask in the quiet, and let myself fall into a novel, perhaps continue reading Frank Herbert's Dune or maybe crack Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card.
I know what it is, it comes every Spring, and thus far I've done well to avoid it.
Every Spring, a poem by Patrick Jarrett
Like clockwork I feel very
I want to hold someone
to feel a heartbeat kindred
to my own.
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