The Key Is To Never Recognize These

And I Find Myself Saying, “it Wasn’t Really About Her.” And Finding It’s True. What Do You Mean?” Norah Asks. It Was About The Feeling, You Know? She Caused It In Me, But It Wasn’t About Her. It Was About My Reaction, What I Wanted To Feel And Then Convinced Myself That I Felt, Because I Wanted It That Bad. That Illusion. It Was Love Because I Created It As Love.

And I, Who Have Never Thought In Terms Of A Life, Think To Myself That I Could Make A Life Out Of This.

Measure The Hope Of That Moment, That Feeling. Everything Else Will Be Measured Against It.

And Still, For All The Jealously, All The Doubt, Sometimes I Will Be Struck With A Kind Of Awe That We're Together. That Someone Like Me Could Find Someone Like You --- It Renders Me Wordless. Because Surely Words Would Conspire Against Such Luck, Would Protest The Unlikelihood Of Such A Turn Of Events.

I Will Be The One To Leave You.