Curtains

He looked at her, into her eyes. That face he'd grown to love more each day, when he didn't, couldn't imagine he could love any deeper. That one who had proven to him time and time again, there is no limit to what the heart could give.
She puzzled him a lot of times, her denial, saying one thing and doing another. All contrary to her preaching. She talked of love, and facing it and showing it rather than saying it. "That is what works," she always said.
It worked for him, a man taught not to say what he cannot do. To live by action, where what you did was the philosophy of what you were. She was his, for a while. She stood by him, for a while. She let him her heart, for a while.
Survival, the drive behind all living things, the reason the dying spasm, as they hold onto that that thread that releases the soul from the body. That's what she awoke in him. That's what he wanted to share with her. For she had held onto it for him when he didn't want to.
Hurt, was what she started to give to him, when he tried to share. Pain, was what he got, when all he had was love to give. He could still see it in her, but survival was all he could think of.
It's not ok to betray those who have been there for you, but reality is, you can't force them to be with you either. They have to make that choice, otherwise, you are better off alone because you can't help it, than hated because you tried to force it on an unwilling soul. That is the way of the wise, you can only try for so long before you are allowed to give up. You cannot see the future, only God knows the future, and he likes those cards close to his chest.

They had been through the dusk, survived the dawn and made it through the dance, maybe it was time for curtains to fall on what would have been a great adventure.
With all that in his mind, he pulled the covers over himself...and prayed for sleep. Tomorrow will speak for itself