but you're leaving...
Come with me.
That's so cliche...
I feel like I should do something, when nothing can be done right now. I don't want this to end. I can't stop looking at you, memorizing every line in a body you seem to wave away as being as beautiful as I see it to be. I watch your eyes when you talk, how they dart. Your hands. I like everything I see, and I just can't believe you're not compromising something by being here with me, that you'd rather be somewhere else.

I don't think I can leave you behind and not think I was making one of the biggest mistakes simply because I've ceased to believe in miracles, that miracles can't be just little simple things. People like you are hard to come by. No woman is good enough for you in my eyes.

Come with me.

Already I can feel the question aching behind my eyes. I'm trying not to ask anything, because I don't want anything already set in motion to end. But I pray instead.

God, if it's in your will, make our ends meet.

Early versions of the phrase (in English literature) went this way: "make both ends (or two ends) of the year meet." From the beginning of the year to the end, you would live within your income (what you spend meets what you earn).

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