Already gone

Already gone

He was out of town again, which means I am out of mind once more. You’d think that by now I’d be used to this, and in a way I am, that is, if you associate numbness with familiarity.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve tried to end it with him; Last time I tried, my determination lasted two months.

Before that? Weeks, days even.

So I gave up my pitiful attempts. I knew that if someone was going to put a finality in our relationship, it was going to have to be him.

That of course, does not mean to say that I have a much weaker resolve than he does; I have merely accepted that whatever it is, this thing that binds us despite knowing we can only bring mishaps and intrigues to one another, is real.

How can it not be when we’ve practically gained nothing and lost almost everything just by insisting on seeing each other, however few times we could?

Before he left, he sent me flowers to fill in for my birthday, a card that revealed too little about his affections towards the recipient and a promise that would be too dangerous to take in seriously.

Nevertheless, what he lacked in expression, I make up quite well in literature.

Which is what “this” is bound to end up being, a collection of letters to make up words in another attempt to describe or even justify the unfathomable.

When he comes back, he will once again be met with frost, which he will have to bear being scalded with until it melts in the warmth of his fingers wrapping his palms.

It’s a dance we know all too well, and every time the song ends, he would always hit replay; Neither daring to dance into a new tune nor risk the truth amidst the silence.

But the waltz have exhausted us. When memories become much more agreeable than the truth, you know you’ve hit the edge of the cliff.

Which means you will either risk the jump, or fall back.

Perhaps he will finally succeed at what I’ve been failing at.

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