You Told Me Not To Move

All I know is that nothing is the same. You told me not to move. To wait out the sunshine, because this will be easier in the rain.

I can’t even look at you. You stare then turn away from me. You can’t watch me walk away, growing more distant on the horizon than the sun.

You told me not to move. So, we’ll wait until we’re just jaded enough to want anything but this. Until there’s more goodbye in your kiss than regret in your eyes. Until our resentment is so alike that we repel like magnets. Until our hands don’t fit anymore and are heartbeats won’t sync.

We’ll wait, but we can’t find it again. That thing that kept us here all those years before. It’ll be the death of us to try. I’m fine, but you weren’t meant to die for this.

You told me not to move. And you stand here with me as the first raindrops hit our cheeks.

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