Four Hours

Someday I’d talk about the four hours we shared one New Year’s Eve. Someday I’d reckon that it was a mistake, to have our hearts beating and then sinking all in but a few counted minutes. Someday we’d admit we needed to hold each other’s hands that night though our palms had been longing for other ones. Someday we’ll consider talking about it instead of locking it up in our psyches. Someday we won’t need each other when the cold calls. Someday we’d brave up and come to terms with the truth that everything has ended, eons prior to this new year. Someday we won’t be this desperate. Someday we’ll meet and know that we have separate paths and are happy with our choices. Someday our four hours won’t be remembered as if it is all we ever had. Four hours can’t make up our someday. We can’t ever have just four hours of beauty and madness and honesty. We aren’t the type who would bet on everything in four hours. We are the type who knows we deserve more than what we sometimes bargain for. We are the type who would look back on four hours and never again return. We shall believe in all else that transcends four hours of calculated, freaking bliss.

Am I right? We are that type?

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