somewhere, somehow, you turned the hourglass upside down, and from then on, we knew: neither of us could stay. we weren’t built for a long romance, just one along its edges. and as the grains of sand make their way to the bottom cylinder, so are our memories shedding: one by one, piece by piece.
this is not for us, we insist. so what, then, is for us? watching movies while we hold our hands in the dark? sunday breakfasts and mid-week coffee dates? an extra nursery in our two-storey bungalow? no. none of them is for us. none of anything is for us.
we will never be more than two strangers in a chance encounter, fueled by whatever vices we have that keeps us going. and these vices can only keep us up for some time. and that time is up. and so are we.
somewhere, somehow, we took chances that led to nothing. but that’s okay. it’s better than where it could have led to.