We stayed friends throughout; despite our knowledge that we will not forever survive. You held me when my knees couldn’t carry my pain and I held you when your pain couldn’t carry your bones. There has always been a variation on how we saw the world; but the gap gets narrower and my mind wonders off between the shadows of “what if”. Although we excelled each on their own; we have always maintained an invisible channel of flowing memories and songs. I have sealed my receiving end at time, but I have always resorted to the channel when needed and it has always been there for me. We are friends, but not in a conventional sense.
I remain a firm believer of Maktoub, a rigid concept against time and space. This is all past time. We have lived, chosen, and died. This is all a replay of what once had been.
Stay with me forever more. Stay as close and as far, as sincere and as make-belief, as distant and as an undeniably great fuck. Stay with me, even after all this mess sorts itself out, until I stand corrected against the mistakes I have made in a failed attempt to disconnect from my Maktoub.