Not you. Not me.

My partner fell asleep tonight to the radio. I’m up drinking, thinking. Never a good combo.

And there’s our song, the opening strands plucking on my heart strings. They’re drawn and taunting as the lyrics lull me back to a time when we were a “WE” and not a you, not a me.

Except we’ve always been a you and a me. But there was never an “and”, just a +-, maybe an asterisk with terms and conditions. “Good for one night only”, right? Or was it, “While supplies last?” Maybe I’m just overthinking. Overdrinking. You always said that, right? “You worry too much baby.”

Maybe I didn’t worry enough. I thought we were golden. We. Not you. Not me.

Good, it’s done. The song’s over. We’re over, but we were never a we to begin with anyway.

I can sigh, crawl into bed with her now, a clearer conscious and a lighter heart. We made our bed, and WE’ll lie in it.

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