You wanted so bad to hear the smash. So badly to feel the twisting metal. But you hit the break instead, and let the fucker go by. What was it?

Was it the way he looks at you? How when he looks directly at you, it seems as if his eyes are completely brown? Or the way you know he would come rushing in to see you, that small chest heaving from running across halls and over any amount of stairs. The way you can hear his heart beat so fast when you lay your ear against his bare chest; him saying "I love you."

So you hit the break. For one more moment. For one more touch of the hand. For one more soft kiss on the forehead.

You never think of what the last kiss will feel like; you'd taken them all for granted.

Your half didn't fit his whole.