Poof it went, before I could follow.

There is a body I know. A mind, I wonder I know.

Some time spent, some money too.Some efforts made, may be meant it too.

Few songs related, I hear them over. Still sound good, though occasion is over.

The unkept blue room haunts me quiet. Are we still on, or is it over quite?

Tear wet pillows are hard to dry. Has exactly our 'thing' really gone 'that' dry?

I had laughed to tears, on Friday right? And now are we nearing, the last rite(s)?

Didn't we hold hands in the rail that night? And mushy phone talks and the other 'goodnight(s)'?

We are still happy, to self I console. But this remains, realization sole.

Oh tell me, how long will my footprints last? Or was that day was indeed our last?

Liberated women do seldom agree,that their soul too hurts when theirs' disagree.

My heart aches much, this noon I say. "And I m pained too", Won't you say?

While you decide what I mean to you, I ought to ignore hyperlinks leading to you?

As judgment I await, if I invoke interest anymore. This is not a Sunday I can take anymore.

It is that way.

Lucy. Like getting tired of the treacle toffees. But you can always stop and begin again.

Myself. That is what the Romans did. They used to eat enormous meals, and when they couldn't eat any more, they took something to make them sick. Then, when they were empty, they began to eat again. But I don't call that being civilized. Do you?

Lucy. No, I don't.

Myself. After all, pigs do that, although they haven't the sense to be sick afterwards.

Lucy. And pigs are not at all civilized.

~ From A Dialogue on Civilization, By C E M Joad.

I feel today like those over-eaten treacle toffees, Roman food and Pig-feed.
Over-eaten, abstained from/repulsed with, good to be eaten again.

Says much about me. Says much about the Romans and Pigs. Says much about eternalness of worth.