One of the kindest things ever done for me was when a love that could’ve been moved states and states away. Not across the county. Not to Jersey. States and states.
Never will I see her in the shampoo aisle or a traffic light positioned so the sun gets in our eyes.
A life without temptation. An ideal.
Maybe once in awhile I’ll spot a tattoo almost as good as hers and think, “That’s almost as good as hers.” I can handle that. The truth.
Some grace us with their coming. Others with their going. And the most precious few the ones who deserve better than the broken gifts we’d give grant the sacred blessing of never coming and going.