That last time I visited him. The last time we made love. The last time I felt that the happiness we had was not destined to self-destruct.
Go over it, over, over. No, again. Again. Again.
One more time it's going to make sense.
In that moment, I heard my heart break, like a flower stem snapping, a clean, small sound.
I wish I could go back to believing, knowing beyond any doubt, that this dangerous and fragile thing between us could have lasted forever. That it wasn't dangerous. That it wasn't fragile.
That it was good and mine forever.
