Our Conversations

I've talked to you, every night, after I saw you. Through the window, standing in your golden dress, the afternoon rays enveloped you, and you only. That moment, that moment was all the certainty I've ever needed to know I love you. And you, that moment, was the only truth I knew, the only truth that matters while we talk, each night, in the darkness, while the sun shines on your golden dress.
At night, I tell you everything, everything you need to know, as, this moment, is the only time we have for certain. I tell you everything I imagined I wished I told you, that I needed for you to know, like a feeling of panic, the panic that
moves me to write you letters so I can tell you everything in case each moment, these moments, were our last moments.
So each night, I tell you everything, everything I wish I told you, that for me, leaving was not a possibility, ever, as immutable as our lives our, as true, as the truth we are fated to ourselves. Like the feeling of certainty, that whatever may come, I know I will always be tied to myself, that, that is inescapable. But there's always you, I see, through the window, in your golden dress.
I tell her, then, it's always your choice, it's your choice if these are our last moments, because I have to tell you, in this moment, I, I will never stop loving you. So I tell her. And for a moment, just that moment, I've convinced her.
I've told her about the golden dress, the truth, even if the truth is only a memory, and memories I wish I had.
And as tell her, I see the tragedy, of always loving you, and of always being tied to myself. The tragedy of us.
And now,
I want to say goodnight, because these are all the truths I wish I could have told you as you sat there, laughing at the moment, that I haven't escaped, that's the tragedy, of being yourself, nd my love for you.
Because you thought,
I would do it first. And I want to tell you, that I never would, though it's these moments, these moments that I have to keep talking to you.