I fell in love with a hopeless man, treading water with all the world's burdens lying on his back. He held potential in his heart but not his head, and dropped his faith, made slippery by fear.

     And tears. When words aren't enough and promises don't mean much, I meet him out here, at the edge of all things and I lose him. Reaching, I snag a string from his unraveling clothes and hang on, knowing that when the thread runs out he'll have to choose. Shouting words into the dark that plead for him to choose right. Choose me.

     Every day he gets further. Peace talks and treaties with those too far to understand clog our airways. The bombs are coming, soon. I'd give the string a tug but I'd be left with slack, unable to feel his downward climb. Unable to feel the goodbye tug back.

     So I hang on.