The Price of Knowing

Of all the sacrifices that must be made in tandem with my certainty, if there must be some at all, then let it be this: I would like to think that there are nights you cannot stand the distance and you all but throw caution to the wind to close it. Every force aligns to stop you, reminding you of the end game and how delicate the tapestry is right now. Others cast themselves in your way, twisting fate to make sure we barely miss each other until the feeling abates for you. In the end they are sufficient, which is for the best as I suspect and you know that the temporary release is not worth the impending eep. That doesn't mean some nights I didn't wish you felt like I do, like time and space are unbearable separated. While I tear at myself to remain grounded, you sneak to my window to catch a glimpse at my mundane Tuesday night. It takes everything in you to stay, like it does for me but in a different way; and while you know and I don't, which is the critical gap that maintains the necessary tension until the final stitch, there are nights even your knowledge feels nearly insufficient to hold you back. 

I'm not saying I know this to be the case. To be honest, in my perfect world your world is perfect, which likely wouldn't include such dissonant nights for you. I'm just saying if some balance must be maintained, let that be the price of the certain knowledge that we will end up together forever and when that phase begins: let the ache of watching me crawl so slowly, crushed beneath the weight of the world, be the only pain you must ever feel. The rest is up to you, there are many ways to get along day to day, but if our lines are drawn same same save knowledge, then let this be your price.