when it cannot be saved, we salvage what is left. try and pick up whatever pieces we can. like a broken thing that somehow becomes more precious than the whole. it's so difficult, even the universe cries for you.
so now, after the tears have dried, we make a deal. first we both go find someone to marry when we're 40 and still alive.
then we calm our hearts and put our cards on the table. we decide, like mature adults fooling ourselves, to share. she gets birthdays, family holidays and promises. and me, weekdays, supervised visits and poetry.
and sometimes, on quiet mornings, we pretend we had a choice.