(no subject)
Another weekend, another man on the line between like and dislike. Smoking, drinking, we converse about our passions, our pasts, and our hopes. As I open up, he shuts down, the fire and vigor left in the wake of some comment laced in sadness, in the wake of another. Recognizing the signs, taking one last look to remember, I finish my drink and lapse into silence.
There will be another, and one day he won't get that far-away look in his eye. He won't face me as if he can't remember how he got to this point. How he got to me.
There will be another, and one day he won't get that far-away look in his eye. He won't face me as if he can't remember how he got to this point. How he got to me.