I never wanted to walk away
I still had so much to confess
Confession shrouded by shame
Shame to confess that I felt safest around you
Shame to confess that when I read a book I always start with the last page
I always read the last page
I always know the end before the beginning
I always prepare for the end
Always
Until you
With you I wanted no end
I decided when I first met you there was no last page to read
There was no stop because a stop would imply a list of lasts
The last kiss, the last embrace, the last echo of your laughter
No, there would be no lasts
I begged the stars to align our fate to form a forever
And when my begging couldn’t bend the existence of fate, I created my own
I engulfed myself in the burning fire of what could be
The scorching warmth of what ifs
All almost enough to keep out the coldness of growing distance
The freezing realization of your prolonged silences
The cold confession of your good bye
Suddenly the last page of our story began to appear, faint at first
Transparent and barely legible, kept at a distance with your bargains to keep me
You spoke with the warmth of what ifs
What if we tried to make this work, what if I remained behind as you moved forward
What if, what if that’s not what I wanted, what if that wasn’t enough
But what if it was
The end was knocking on your door, I could hear the deafening thuds as you spoke
I let it in as I walked myself out
As our final page was marked with the fated words
The end
I still have our last page folded at the top right corner, marked to conveniently revisit
Because I never confessed
I never wanted to walk away