The Little Too Late
I asked you to read my writing, to engage in what I was doing. You refused, demanding I privately send you something in order for you read it. You were not to be just another one of the 200K followers. When we were out, people would mention interviews, blog posts of mine they read and you would not even know what they were referencing. Then I started my second 'secret' blog, and begged you to read it, hinting you would find pieces of us buried in between its lines.
You never read it.
I begged you to grab breakfast by the beach before work, to go to lunch at that place off of Military Road, try the martinis at the happy hour at that tiki bar on the Jupiter inlet, skip the gym just once to go to an art show in Wynwood, stay up late for one more heart-to-heart talk before I had to catch my flight back to the city. You never would.
You read this now. Before work, during work, after work, at the gym, before bed, when you wake up at 2AM, and when you still can't fall asleep at 4AM.
Spending all of the times of the day you just never had time for me, reading writing you never cared to read.