But one last time

It was the last day I would be there, in that city, in that room, in that bed, with you. We both knew that this was something undefined, transit, and temporary. But, I think somewhere in the far removed moments in that room, I lied to myself about us. I wanted to believe that we could breathe resistance, and persistence, into whatever this was and that all the obstacles would just melt away.

Your words sliced open those illusions, though, so I turned my head to face you. I tried to ask the question neither of us wanted to hear, but I stayed there, lying there, silent.

I could not bear the non-answer you would give, nor the fence you would teeter on out of your own fear of confrontations and truth. The plane would be ready for take-off and we would say our goodbyes, still playing this out with a “see you later” kind of kiss.

But, as I walked to the gate I looked back and saw you, and saw the finality of it all. In that moment all I wanted, truly, was to race back to that city, to that room, to that bed, and hold each other just one more (last) time.

Last Resort (live) :: Paulo Nutini

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