The Letter

I left a message for you in a book.
It is like me to mark provocative phrases,
to shake them out in ponderous verses.
Do not read too much in the fallout,
the notes in the border are for nostalgia’s sake.
I dreamt of you  again last night
my adversary
Whose  aura I barely recall.
My suffering is not in knowing what is real  but  what is not.

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