The coffee has gone cold, a dark mirror reflecting a ceiling I no longer recognize. Across the table, your silence is a heavy curtain, draped over the words we used to speak like a second language.
Forget the way I laugh. Forget the way I knew exactly how you took your tea. Forget me, because holding on is a heavier burden than letting go ever was. Gabriela Bolundut – Uita de mine
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There is a strange mercy in the end. Like a song fading out on a radio station as you drive into the mountains, the melody of us is losing its signal. I am untethering the anchors. I am handing back the keys to a house that was built on sand. Forget the way I knew exactly how you took your tea