The Last


By Lou Escobar


September 26, 2015.
Who knew that that day would be the last.
The last time that I would ever be wrapped up with your body against mine. 
The last time that me and you would glance upon the neon paper airplanes hanging from my ceiling, wishing upon them if we could have just another day to ourselves. 
The last time that I would hug you goodbye, followed by a kiss filled with a promise of return.
A promise that would soon be left empty. 
Maybe I knew that it would be the last. 
Maybe that's why I sobbed so heavily into your shoulder as you whispered sweetly that you would be back soon. 
That soon you would be back just for me. 
Maybe that's why I clung onto your hand so hard that I could feel the blood circulation stop in the tips of my fingers. 
Because in the back of my mind, I secretly knew that it would be the last time that I ever saw you. 
And to this day, as I sit here in bed coated in tears that speak of longing and regret, that I still love you. 
But I cannot risk inflicting pain upon you once more. 
I cannot risk killing your spirit once more. 
I cannot risk breaking your already damaged mind. 
Because me and you are like water and oil. We will come together as one and create something so breathtaking to the both of us. 
But at some point, we will go our separate ways whether we'd like to or not. 
And that, I can guarantee , will leave us both broken and dull once more. 
And I cannot risk you losing your light. 
Because I need you to make someone's life as bright as you have made mine.

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