It took only twenty-one days before I faltered. I stand beneath those pouring clouds, and he smiles through the telephone. The sky fades into evening dark, the autumn leaves roll along the sidewalk, and the skyscrapers glow. We talk about simpler times, and truer than patterned logic, we slip into a conversation that shadows your moral compass in hues of grey.
He whispers in his gravelly voice that he is addicted – and I relent. Time swallows us whole, yet we reach out into the portal to chase that first taste of raw love. The reality is, I will always be your first – and that one constant will trace the words that you say back to me, perhaps forever.