But at the end of the day we'd be reduced to distant friends,
ones that avoid each other
and never make eye contact because
every last time we try
to bury our story it
always turns out to be a load of bullshit
until the history that we create between us is more way more than a lifetime can
handle.

Which is why there are two of us. There's no way we could carry this
alone.
It's why I'd give you a million years. For us to save these jars
of memories cluttering the

distance

between us.

And I know we'd run and hide and throw ourselves away into other people's arms hoping we'd
see the bend in the road, reach those
greener pastures, and yes -
maybe we'd fall in love harder for someone else, let that love overcome
everything else, including me and you.
And it'd
break our hearts into a fucking million pieces, one for each
one-one-thousand-two-one-thousand,
it makes me wonder if any of this was
such a good idea after all, a thought that'd be
dashed every time you touch me cuz I'm a sucker
for that kind of thing.

No, at end of the final day, I'll be as
in love with you as I did on the first:
beginning to, and afraid.

When that day comes
we'll as good as be on opposite sides of the world,
and I'll be wishing I was with you
one more time
so I could feel the thrill of maybe and
daydreams, as young as we were when things were good.
I'll close my eyes and see you knocking at my door, somewhere between solemn and
smile, and the moment will pass
in the most exquisitely beautiful way possible,
the lights dimming and the world crumbling away in our eyes
around us, and to the
last second
we'd feel all the sand we held
and lost
grow into a new you-and-me.

But the truth will cut that reverie short,
and I'll be on my deathbed,
waiting to turn to dust, dissolve into a sigh; wait for it to blink out the light in me.