The Girl On the Bench

The face haunts me still. I feel I should head back past the wearing county miles and confining rain, just say it - one heart-felt interjection that head did swallow, opting more the bitter peristalsis than game tenably Out-of-Range. And why was not conformed, as my trembling heart looked, and looked, marveling if it was deserved by a man of such despotic head?- all soon, guilt turned to an egotism and that case was duly held. What a life I did lose, Mind robbed by of a single word!