The message I want to send, but won't. Yet. in Process of a Brokenhearted Woman

Do you think I can have one more kiss? I’ll find closure on your lips, and then I’ll go. Maybe also one more breakfast, one more lunch, and one more dinner. I’ll be full and happy, and… we can part. But in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time? One more prolonged moment where time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest.
My hope is if we add up the “one more’s“, they will equal a lifetime and I’ll never have to get to the part where I let you go.
But that’s not real, is it? There are no more “one more’s“.
I met you when everything was new and exciting and the possibilities of the world seemed endless. And they still are. For you, for me. But not for us.
Somewhere between then and now, here and there, I guess we didn’t just grow apart, we grew up.
When something breaks, if the pieces are large enough, you can fix it. Unfortunately, sometimes things don’t break, they shatter. But when you let the light in, shattered glass will glitter. And in those moments, when the pieces of what we were, catch the sun, I’ll remember just how beautiful it was. Just how beautiful it’ll always be. Because it was us. And we were magic. Forever.