‘I can be there in five. One more one last time’

“That taste, that touch, the fire I miss
Those ‘kiss-me’ eyes, your red wine lips on mine
Like it used to be,
Baby, I want you, and you want me.”

Blake Shelton, “Lonely Tonight”

That weird moment that you know it’s going to end. When, you don’t know. But you know it’s there.

And whether it ends simply in its present form or for good, you really don’t know. Or want to.

I mean, the ending could become something bigger too — it could be the end of a chapter and the beginning of the new one.

But holding your breath isn’t something you’re particularly good at, even though blue is a spectacular color on you.

And you try very hard not to wonder. And even succeed, for the most part.

The one thing I don’t get is, no matter whose choice it is to leave, how anybody can let me walk away.

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