The stars don't shine any differently in your presence. The dark waves of the water don't move any differently if your arm is around me, and the fog we saw would dissipate eventually. Your arm will leave my shoulders, your smile will leave your face, and your eyes will stop looking into mine. Everything is eventual and this is only a time game. The trees we saw move were only standing still, and the city lights were only sleepless office buildings. The blanket of the night sky was only an absence of light. It was all only an absence of light. [They say the speed of light is the fastest, but why, then, is darkness always there to meet it first?]
The stars stopped shining, and your arm slid off my shoulders. Your fingers left the tangled mess of my hair and your eyes drifted downwards toward your shoes. You aren't smiling anymore, and the trees are standing still. The water is creeping towards where we sit and eventuality is here.
It's here, love. Love, it's gone.
(But it does not matter, because you will never read this anyway.)
The photo fits perfectly. Did you take that?
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