more of the same.

I’ll cross a melancholy man in some far away town and pretend it was the place where I had always wanted to settle down. We won’t have any children while waiting for the perfect time, and have vacations by the handfuls and all our social ladders climbed.
Like that time you and I climbed the lighthouse where we hesitated too long, and the sunset dipped and disappeared behind the rising fog.
You’ll nab an easygoing girl in the town you’ve always lived, and keep doing all the things you’ve always done and did. You won’t have any arguments and have lovely holidays, spent waiting on the coming year to bring more of the same. Like that time out on beachside counting waves along the shore, where you said having met me, nothing would be the same anymore.

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3 thoughts on “more of the same.

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