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i don't know when it started.

i don't know how it'll end.

all i can say though, is that honey kisses and memories of grass and laughter and your hands on my skin and whispers and you...

...somewhere in between that first day sitting on a bench sharing a well-loved musical score, and the now,

they've lost the tingly-sparkliness of i'm in love with you.

you're amazing, you know? your smile, your eyes, that laugh, the deep baritone of your voice. i said it on the bench, and i'll say it on that day when, tears rolling down my cheeks like they do now, i tell you what we've been dreading to hear vocalised, echoes of abandoned longing lingering till the day we forget.

you'll ask why, i know - you always do, when i call you silly, or beautiful, or tell you that i love you.

this time, though, there'll be no laugh, no flick of my hair as i gaze into the darkness of your eyes and smile.

this time, those memories will return, of promises and hopes and dreams. and i'll weep...

...because this time, all i can say is...

i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm-

i'm sorry.