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impy It's funny how it happens. One moment he's there, lurking around her life, waiting for her to let him back in just one more time, one more time and they'll get it right, this time he swears. It'll be different. He's changed, she can see that, right? He's not the same. He's better. He's less than he was before because he needs her. She needs him and if she'd stop being so damn afraid of everything she'd see that he's right. Oh, God, he didn't mean it. Really. It's just that he's so frustrated, he's so lost, he's never been any good without her, not since they got together anyway. Without her he's lost his balance, he keeps twisting this way and that looking for something to hold him up, to help him up, to keep him up. This time has to work because neither of them will settle for anything less. Nothing else will do. You've just got to trust me this one time more and you'll see. You'll know.
One minute it's this crush of the history between them. The words they've said over the years, the things they've done, things they never got to do because life got in the way, things they planned on doing, it all ties them together so tightly that neither has ever actually contemplated a future without the other. So, fine, neither looks forward that far anyway, but it's accepted that they lucked out and to pay for their luck they make each other pay, one way or another, until the ties that bind snap them back together and it's all okay. It's the way it always should be, the way it always will be, the way it was, until it no longer is.
One second he's there waiting for that moment when they'll be thrown back together because God knows it's coming. The clock's ticking and everyone's bets are in.
But someone else enters the picture and the inevitable isn't anymore. One moment he's there, the next the only thing left is this half glimpsed future crumbling to dust and she's the only one who remembers enough to mourn.
Just one more second, okay?
Because the year should always begin with writing, even if it's nothing all that long.
And crap! Bedtime! New year love to you.
One minute it's this crush of the history between them. The words they've said over the years, the things they've done, things they never got to do because life got in the way, things they planned on doing, it all ties them together so tightly that neither has ever actually contemplated a future without the other. So, fine, neither looks forward that far anyway, but it's accepted that they lucked out and to pay for their luck they make each other pay, one way or another, until the ties that bind snap them back together and it's all okay. It's the way it always should be, the way it always will be, the way it was, until it no longer is.
One second he's there waiting for that moment when they'll be thrown back together because God knows it's coming. The clock's ticking and everyone's bets are in.
But someone else enters the picture and the inevitable isn't anymore. One moment he's there, the next the only thing left is this half glimpsed future crumbling to dust and she's the only one who remembers enough to mourn.
Just one more second, okay?
Because the year should always begin with writing, even if it's nothing all that long.
And crap! Bedtime! New year love to you.