Patterns

Someone must punch me and then tells me that it has all gone and I just need to speak it out! I was always the last one caught in the past. It is all the patterns that matter. The patterns trouble me. I can hardly hold them tightly as if you can barely speak it out loud to me. Still, just like you cannot make a clear cut with me for all the things seem that I have become realized how hard the life can be. But I have grown up with the reduced power of realization. Maybe I can never learn how to say goodbye to anyone. No, I never have learned to do so, as always. Just as years ago there was nothing between me and Lucas. The last day of meeting he brushed against me while having noticed me right there. My longing to see him became stronger ever since I wished he would turn his head around. But that was the last day of us seeing each other. Still I appreciated that Lucas's pattern upon me nurtured me for the life at that time. But I thought I would keep his pattern till the next step in my life. The goodbye he never says to me. He shunned, brushed past me and walked away as if nothing had happened. His movement became a tale-tell sign that this never-saying goodbye presaged a sort of never-ending connection to me. All his patterns reel me in. Perhaps I have decided not to be exuded completely. And now I am just like her. To be caught in the past, in her palm as if I were her again. Patterns, oh, patterns, pattering along me as much as you could, and elongate the moment of spinning within such the world of yours. How could you treat me like this? What I fear is to lose the pattern I establish. And I still attempt to recover the pattern on my own hand without any notice from myself. Yes, it should be the time to say goodbye. Farewell to the patterns that I have built. Some time, back to me, as it will always do.