What am I holding on for when it feels like it’s already over?
The doors that you opened so systematically and carefully are all locked away inside a plain set of cardboard boxes now. It’s retirement time. No more pretty words or double edged swords. I’m tired of this all.
Maybe I’ll bring out the set of boxes for the next set of dashing eyes and small town promises, but for now please, no more.
I’ll plan my escape so that you won’t notice.
Your lips will never forget mine anyways.