when all we have left is eternity, i will be sure to say

that nothing ever made sense, but i loved the momentum
and all the words were unnecessay at the time, but later always stole my subtext.
that out of all the nights i kept the one the made the least sense
and the rest that i relinquished never forgave my unreliable conclusions.
that, when it was over, i knew that nothing feels like a man stroking your roots
despite dreaming
and comfortable and contented will always be cheaper than a damp, smelly room with unmatched blankets.
that i held you long after i let you go
and didn't regret any of it.