I’ve been here. Shoulders squared, bag slung. Do you know how many times I’ve walked away.
Often, when I wanted to stay.
I left you, once. When I wanted to stay. I’ll leave anyone or anything, don’t you know? It won’t ever be that I love you more. Than Sunday mornings and 4pms. Than sinking in and settling down.
The familiar can only go so far.
After leaving so much more than you. I can always, always walk away.