Sitting in a crowded restaurant with a table too far to put your elbows on and you wonder if this is how it feels to be well mannered
He smiles, innocent and pure, deceiving your naïve mind
"We've grown apart, it's been months and I still can't sleep, how did you do it so fast?"
He parts his lips like he is going to say something but pauses almost as if it is a death sentence he does not want to give. A pounding on a gavel, a mother gasps in a courtroom, handcuffs fitting too tight.
He says, "Part of growing up is picking and choosing your battles and you just aren't one I want to fight anymore."