Does All Love Come With An Endpoint?

She comes to me in the dead night, while I slumber. “I love you.” slips for her mouth, exactly how I remembered it. This time I can spot the frayed ends all over the words. The punctuation so firm at the end of the sentence, I see the ending she began. Her love wasn’t meant to last a lifetime, perhaps mine wouldn’t have either.  She will learn to move on, while I’m left to analyze the dreams from the time it all started to fall apart. Finding each small moment she started to slip away from me, one sentence at a time.

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