A Final Rendezvous
Falling out of love is laying naked on a futon head to chest; breathing, heart-beating, stillness. Nothing lies between you figuratively and physically. So much lies ahead of you.
And you are there surrounded completely by a long and complicated past. You are embracing it, holding it, clinging to it, willing it to be more than it ever could have been, but still, it isn’t what you have pretended it was.
You are saying good-bye now. There is no reason to be sad really. It is more like nostalgia; bitter and sweet at the same time.
One last embrace. One last whispered “bye.” Turn now. Walk to your car. Notice the darkness of the night, the brightness of the stars. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Please don’t look back.
You look back.
It is too late though. The door is already shutting and your last glimpse has already happened.
But you are satisfied. You are perfect. The world is perfect in these early morning hours.
No need to turn on music as you drive home.