So go to Boston & think of me. Cause maybe that’s the girl I should be. Maybe I, maybe you, maybe any compromise wouldn’t do — or could be found. But here we are again, saying goodbye just near that wonderful town — with flights and fears and failing plans.
I remember the exact sound, how strange, that the door made the morning that you left. It said the sounds of what we always say too late — and you were gone and off. The sheets still warm, the room still sweet, my mind and heart still soft against it all.
It could’ve been two years ago — us ending at chapter 1, hello, and on again, so then...
And now I’ve just realized that’ll be the last. That - ah - was what I heard as it spoke and silenced all the quickened blissful falls a second old.
We tried so beautifully this time.
Weren’t we great in all the new & old & speaking souls — taking slow breathes between secrets — and then on into a laugh. So I’ll strike the deal there and try — with you remembering mine, and me remembering...your whistle in the morning. And everything before and after the close.
Another morning just hours to come.
. . .
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