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Nelson Riddle B. 6.1.1921 Oradell, New Jersey / D. 10.6.1985 Los Angeles Liver Ailments Are we still dating? I wish I knew, but since we�re not communicating day to day I don�t. It�s queer. Are we still dating? I must confess, if it were up to me we would be copulating in �our� way but it is not�this much is clear.
You do not call. You do not write. I am alone another night. I wish I knew a better cure for blue than you.
Are you still internally debating? I�d hate to interrupt in case it�s my side advocating for its say before the judge and jury of its peer. What are you incubating? Something scarier than silence, I�m anticipating: we shall see if ever you�re no longer neither there nor here.
You do not call. You do not write. I am alone another night. Oh woe is me a tragedy: Too free.
Are we still dating? If not I can�t imagine why you�re hesitating: �Go away.� I hear you say it when you don�t appear. Does it need stating? I�m very sorry that I made us lose our PG13 rating: two can play but I forgot that only one should steer.
You do not call. You do not write. I liked you so you really might. �For you I pine and balsam too.� It�s true.
Are we still dating? This afternoon I thought of emigrating. I thought you hated waiting� or maybe that was only me projected onto you�I�m hating your delay in any case�oh, not hate but fear. I find this enervating. My face feels full of little after-happy smiles deflating; with a sigh each smile subsides and waits to be a tear.
You do not call. You do not write. I liked you so you really might. A word or two would really do: As in �Adieu.� Consolation Site: For Sinatra 1954 / For Rags & James
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