It looks like this is it. Locks changed. Bags on the doorstep. No Way Back.
Whatever happened to...
"I'll always love you no matter what." Under an oak tree in Finsbury Park, sheltering from the rain storm. Shivering despite the warmth of your body. The sincerity of your blue-eyed gaze the only surety I needed.
"No-one, but NO-ONE has EVER understood me the way you do." August; roof top. The pinky-blue sky still shimmering from the heat of the day. Talking, talking, talking. Telling each other things we'd never told anyone else. Leading to the moment, the breakthrough, the point of no return.
"I want to grow old with you." The day I moved in, pulling my battered black suitcase behind me. You laughed at it's antiquity, picked me up and carried me over the threshold. I felt safe, held. I knew then, you'd never let me down.
I don't know how it happened. Truly I don't. I thought we were happy. That you loved me. Clearly I missed something important, something obvious. Like one of those frogs, who don't notice the water is boiling until it's too late.
So now, I am locked out. I can see you through the window back to me, ignoring my texts. My rickety suitcase sits in front of our blue door. Or to be more precise, YOUR blue door. There is no "our" any more. You've made that abundantly clear.
Well then. If this is the situation. What is to be done?
I look at the suitcase. I look at the window. I extend the handle, pick it up, and swing.