living on borrowed time
my dearest,
I spent the night lying against your closed body.
turned away wrapped in the the white sheet leaving me with our main blanket.
the what ifs in my head like the vultures we used to see when leaving the house.
the ones that would pine over every glance shared.
surely you couldn’t do that, right?
maybe its just been a rough day for you -
I only know the good you tell me over the phone most days
but how could you do that.
you rolled over with the sheet and left me with the blanket and nothing else.
all the late game nights and parties
all the times I asked you what was wrong and you said nothing and asked about my day.
but what if we tried harder?
what if we gave it a shot to be something real?
something more than a feeling between us,
and something more than a meeting under the stars?
but we were only living on borrowed time.
deep down we both knew no part of this would be anymore than a forbidden love,
a classic tale of right person wrong time,
and moments before something more promising would come around.
