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What We Don't Speak About

The silences between us stretch longer than these desolate island shores. The slow tide of time is eating away into the very ground under our feets, yours and mine.

I loved you once, and I keep telling that to myself over and over again, even as I feel myself standing on shaky grounds, with the sand beneath me hurriedly caving into the sea.

We won't talk about it. We will look into each others eyes and discuss the weather, even as the sea around us turn choppy and the waves slowly run inshore.

We will not build one more bridge and cross over. We will not take one more piece of white paper, and write off our sins. We will not sing one last song together, nor have one more drink to get drunk and fall asleep into each others arms. You won't shreik and holler and chase me in feigned anger. You won't tell me, that you will kill me. You won't swing your wet hair and spray my white work shirt. You won't bathe me with your dove or spray your Charlie on me anymore.

There will be no tsunami, we will sink and die, slowly, looking into each others' eyes.

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