One day, I will write about us, about our innocence, our flaws, us, two imperfect beings swimming against the ebbs and flows of life’s tides.
And I will write about how we dared to hope, and how that hope failed us. And how I ask you to hope to hope again. We must, we must.
We must, We must even though it seems impossible now; We must.
And I will write about the time we had together and the joy I felt, you felt. Slow and steady did not win the race in our case; This is my fault.
I will write about you because you were you, unmistakeable you. I will miss you; I will try to swim back to us, pass the ebbs and flows of life’s tides, through my words. But I will fail miserably and wet splotches will pepper my paper and stain, seep through my bed.
One day I will write about us.