This one fucked me up to write.

she and I didn't end in a horrible derailing crushing wreck

one that left both of us bloody and grabbing for our throats

checking if we were still breathing

it was more like a slow dance.

We were holding each other closely,

swaying to Cigarettes After Sex

and I decided to gently let go of her hand

and she didn't make the slightest attempt to grab it back.

and in a cynical yet poetic way,

this is how loving in a broken generation haunted by dreams feels

a slow dance that gets slower and slower

until the music stops and someone lets go.