a note on goodbye

my dear

– AUG 1ST –

“Look me up if you’re ever back in Chicago.”

I smirked and stared at my shuffling feet.

I loved his eyes although they weren’t particularly large or complex in color. Anatomically, I suppose I loved the muscles surrounding his eyes – the fibers that pulled together the intensity of his gaze. To fall under their scrutiny brought the danger of perception. His eyes understood deeply. His mouth served with devotion and spoke not a word of their insights. Mouth had no need to speak further.

Like every electric moment with my dear, I became a muse under the study of his eyes last night. Now, I shrank away from their cruel exposure. Head bowed, I found myself speechless, unsure, afraid. Desperate to stay just one more touch and eager to run before heartbreak burst onto my cheeks.

“Let me know if you move, I guess.”

We did not embrace. We did not kiss. We did not goodbye.

We could not.

And my heart has remained all the more heavy for it.

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