Was it all worth it in the end, the back and forth the tears, the compromise only to be strangers.

To be even worse than that lovers in secret when lonely, too afraid to feel or speak of what is or was.

I admit, it hurts.

It hurts that you will never even think of us, that the thought only passes as tension, a kiss, a **** behind closed doors, when parents or house mates have left or fallen into deep slumber.

When your world is silent and I cross your mind, again and again until you find yourself in my arms.

Like teenagers he whispers as he kisses me in the doorway promising another night that we both know won’t come.

Or at least until we pretend that friendship is something we can do, but never choose.

Control lacking, running on impulse.

You once told me I was the love of your life and now I have to let go, because words in moments washed with rose, with affections are not real.

You’re searching for the right words, but you’re possessed by the moment, the nothingness of the world without words spoken.

Goodbye for first, for seconds and for thirds.