We’re in that moment, you and I. It happens to a lot of couples. The one where we’re seconds away from letting go, forgetting one another, and moving on.
I’ve loved you more than I’ve ever loved any other human being, but we’re destroying one another.
The fights are becoming more frequent, and apologies don’t come out as easy as they used to.
I don’t know what it was, maybe the distance did it to us. Our circumstances doomed us from day one.
But then there’s a part of me that thinks about your warm body against mine on a winter Sunday morning. I mumble “5 more minutes” and you don’t object.
There was always a sense of comfort that came over me when I turned around in the early hours of the morning, mildly conscious and in a deep slumber, feeling you sound asleep next to me.
The other half of the bed is cold now.
So what do we do, do we give it another shot? Another plane ride, ecstatic hello’s followed by a series of hurried goodbyes at the airport?
I hate you sometimes. It used to be so simple, then you had to come in with your beautiful eyes and your compassion, and energy, and charming personality and..
You’re getting me off track again. I’m eating an overpriced sandwich waiting at my boarding gate, wondering when we’ll see each other again.
I’m seconds away from letting go, forgetting you, and moving on, but I wanna wake up next to you on a Sunday morning.