There were days when passion became confused with convenience. When your hands could skim the surface of my skin and wipe away the doubt in my mind.
There were days when I looked across the room to see you–locked in your own contemplation, escaping to a place where I could not follow.
These days passed slowly; like the universe was imprinting on my mind the pictures of you I would later need to recreate our tale.
I began to be able to sense when our story started to begin its inevitable descent into the separation that ended our final chapter.
Those days were haunting–you the living ghost, and me the unhinged soul waiting to be cut loose from it’s only safe tether.
Time was now being observed not in months, weeks, or even day-by-day like it had once been, but in rapid shutter-fast succession.
Now I found you always within my direct line of sight–scared you might split apart from me unawares–taking your final journey alone.