Come Around
The last days before you left. Stupid. Special. Raw. Stripped down to our souls for once, after years of pretending, but our clothes stayed on. You rightly kept me at a small distance. Gentle reminders, in my weaker moments, that there was no way. When you came back for one last kiss that night, even though we agreed this would end before it started, I tasted desire on your lips. You're busy now, far far away. Work occupy your time and I think you're happy. It makes me feel good to believe that you are. Far away and Happy. That's the right thing. It's the right way to go isn't it? We've put our confessions and secrets someplace safe. I'll still love the hell out of you from hours away.
Once you caught my eye across the table, I swear we said things with our eyes, things I weren't able to say when I needed you back. Once you tried to kiss me goodnight and I made an excuse. Once I held your hand without meaning to but I didn't let go. You didn't let go either. Christmas and New Year's will be strange without you around. We never exchanged gifts. You and me. You were maybe celebration itself. You maybe still are.
I hope you think of me sometimes. I hope it’s a soft memory. Nothing that hurts. Nothing about distance or disputes or longing. I am clumsy and I loved you. Remember those things. There are reasons we’ll never be everything to each other. There are reasons we’ll always be something. Plans are a luxury and the future’s a funny thing. You can hope that we have laughter and something warm across the miles. Try not to think too much. I’ll try too.
We'll sit across the table from each other again. We'll catch each other's eyes again. It might be different then. October and you, gone for now. You'll both come around again.
