Something More Honorable Than This.

I don't want any of it. The way that his eyes looked he has been building up to that for awhile, I think, but there was some tacit supplication that I sent out into the far beyond that it would never pass his lips, that we could just continue to be best friends and comrades and all of that. And so, but it turns out that the quiet thing I hoped you would keep like a secret came out, and ...

I don't even have words for it. It just makes me sad, like I'm dying, to break your heart like that, why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut?! And now, and now. And in the middle of all of it a text, sweet dreams my emily, how can I possibly ever combine those two worlds now, after all that was said spilled out lying fragile there on the floor and still I didn't choose you? Cannot. They would kill each other. Desperation framed the conversation and none of it made any logical sense because really it should have worked, but it didn't, and so you move forward. You don't keep re-doing. We are still the exact same people that we were back then. His eyes so hopeful and end of the line and all I can think is how I want that space between your clavicle and sternocleidomastoid muscle, that little crevice, the scent of you, fill me with it. And how horrible it made me feel to be thinking that looking at someone so hopeful and a door slamming. Run over me.