I’m sorry I can’t fold time and space.
I’m sorry that I can’t promise to be there for you.
It’s seems as if it were meant to be.
At times.
Cursed.
Each tethered to an invisible force.
An undeniable logic.
It binds the will to complacency.
A suffering reluctance.
Acceptance stumbles in, drunk as usual.
And I find myself having to say goodbye.
To the illusion as it were.
My moment to bask in the twilight of a moment in bliss.
Now a memory.
A warm and happy memory.