Will you?

when I left,
I looked back
and felt something.
like the decision I had made
left me with more questions
than answers.

I looked back
and saw you
except this time
it’s you leaving,
not me.

this one last time
will you follow me?
will you grab my hand
and follow me to my favourite spot
up on The Rock?

will you sit with me
and listen to my babble
– the way that I overthink out loud
all while the waves crash against us.
we can watch the storm roll in,
and the sunset fade into the distance
– my favourite part of day.

will you listen to the way
I’m explaining myself
and not making any sense at all?
the way I feel
something between us
– alive
yet unfamiliar,
detached,
almost guarded.
not wanting to feel something
that isn’t there,
but feeling
nevertheless.

we both have so much living to do,
but will you visit me
or I you?
not the kind of promise
that never happens,
but the kind of promise
that follows through?

will you show me your favourite places
and I show you mine?
will we have road trips
through countries
we’d only ever dreamed?
or would we not talk again?

will you wait with me until nightfall,
just you and I
still chatting on The Rock?
will you stay
in the silence of the night
and listen
to the crashing of the waves
with me?
will you tell me
how you feel,
or how you don’t?

if I see you this last time
will it be at our end
where you go your way,
as I’ll go mine?
or will you look back for me
and feel what I felt for you?

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