There was that night when we were too restless to stay indoors, the florescent lights of this familiar setting proving much too bright for our tired heads.  So we followed the road to a place where we'd be out of sight.  But the moon was so full that it still kept us up all night.  And I remember asking you in the steady glow, if you were planning on disappearing.

I should have known what it meant when I didn't get a straight answer.
I should have known that there wouldn't be a straight answer.

Your eyes became a concentrated source for me to look to, filled me up with everything good.

I should have known what it meant when they wouldn't meet mine anymore.
I should have known that they wouldn't meet mine anymore.
I should know, we aren't eye to eye.

I guess I missed your terms of service.  Now I'm so far overdrawn I doubt I'll ever really catch up.  Each day, I wake up and start running, in some delirious hope that I'll eventually be able to close my eyes without seeing the same empty echo - the same hollow scene that seemed to mean as much.  I guess I consolidated any sense of regard within this frame.  You'd think that by now I could have found some place else to rest my thoughts.  And I can see you so clearly, still silently asking, what brought you here again?  It gets farther away every time.  I can't remember all of that distant complication, but it still leaves me feeling just as unnatural as ever.  I'm still left feeling just as stripped to the core.

What is it about knowing that the last time had been the last time?  I've got too many loose ends to count.  You couldn't have made sense of it, tied me up before you took up residence in that alternate globe.  And I don't dare come close for fear that your roche limit will disintegrate my existence.  So I stay away.  But all I can keep thinking is, at what cost?  And why didn't you just say it when you were leaving, that this just wasn't happening anymore.

I could never admit how much of my breathing in and out has been done in your name.  Not even to myself.  But I remain in this quiet denial all the same.  And I would cover my walls with your face, if I thought it would help.

If you would have let me know that it was the last time.  If I would have known I would never see things from that view again, well, something deep inside of me says nothing would really have changed.  I'd still be here playing this twisted game.

If you could have set aside that private policy, I keep thinking there is some kind of difference I could have made.  There was something I could have done, if you would have let me.  Why couldn't you have let me?  If there wasn't time, I would make time.  Do you think you could let me?

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