Talk about our future like we had a clue. Never plan that one day I’d be losing you.
We used to dream about our future together. We even fought about where we would put up our future house – I wanted to be somewhere solitary, you wanted to build our home underneath your parents’ nostrils. We’ve always agreed to have just two kids, a boy and a girl. You wanted them to look like you, I wanted them to be as tough as me. But now, our future’s blueprint have lost its detail. Like the way we’ve lost each other.
Sometimes when I miss you, I put those records on.
Music is one thing we’ve always had in common. I remember nights when you lulled me to sleep, days when we sang along to music on the radio. We used to scour the interwebs for duets just so we could sing them and prove to ourselves that we do blend well together – in life and in music. We might have hit the notes, but we sure missed on love.
And in another life I would make you stay. So I don’t have to say you were the one that got away.
If I could turn back the hands of time and relive my moments with you all over again, I would probably play my cards just a wee bit different. Maybe, just maybe, I would let you stay. Maybe I wouldn’t push you away when the going gets tough. Maybe I would hold on just a little bit longer. Maybes. All I got are maybes. Because baby, let’s face it: You already got away.