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The Reflecting Shatter

However familiar, yet absent. However familiar, yet vacant. However familiar yet, longing.

The one true familiar is not that familiar at all. It taunts and teases with reminiscing joyous reflections however, where is melancholy? Where is sorrow? Or maybe yet, its contrary. It torments you like a never ending plague to never be shattered. Burning like a candle, with the wax shallowing yet absent of light. Maybe, familiarity stretches onto a simple longing reminiscent of something that once was. Never presenting itself into the present. It simply never was nor will be.

Familiarity can never truly know.