"It wasn't supposed to hurt this much, is it," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"No",he croaks out,"it's not."
"So why does it? Because I love you, and that should be enough. It has to be." She clings to her words, like speaking them out loud would make them true.
"I love you too," he sighs, and he looks so beautiful for a second, so miserable and beautiful she wants to take a picture to hold on to.
They're silent. And the silence carries the words neither one dares to speak: it's over, it has to be.
Love is good, but it's only a feeling. The word is real and it's big and it's cruel and love is supposed to make it bearable but sometimes it can't.
They're silent. They love each other. They're silent. It's not enough, and just because it feels real doesn't mean it is.
The world is too much for a feeling to break it. They're silent. I miss you, they say, in their silence.
It will hurt to miss you, and it will hurt to let go. It will hurt to stop missing you.
It will hurt. They're silent.
Last words aren't that important, its the silence that's important."