When the tears start to run, hot down my cheeks, I know it's time to stop. I've gone too far and need to pull myself back. Or forward, as it were, into the present and away from that time. That person. Those eyes.
It takes a few more moments for me to regain control of my breathing. It will take years before I can regain control of my body.
These memories are the sweetest torture. I pray that I do not get myself consumed by this illicit passion. But if I do, I also pray that they both know I love them.
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