I really thought we would last this time, last like the smooth rocks in rivers we’ve camped by, last like they have for ages, just letting the water pass around them. We’re more like cats in traffic, terrified and dodging anything that moves, because any movement is a terror. Any pulling or putting away. This is a terror, every moment. I know nothing is as scary as waiting for you to leave. I don’t want you to go, but you won’t choose me, so you can’t stay. You’ll go like you came, and maybe we’ll end like we began, first and last words in parking lots. We’ll walk away, the both of us sighing and saying at last.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: wrong, traffic, and at last.

_{Photo by Lachlan on Unsplash}