Who will be left when you go? Who will I watch when you’re gone?

I wake up with the guilt I was programmed with at five, stapled to at six, and I can’t always pinpoint the reason. I think, last night, I dreamed of you undressing, and I wondered how you exposed yourself easily in front of audiences. I unlocked each navel and scar.

Maybe you’ll kiss onscreen more. You won’t let people cheat. You’ll have a fixed identity from day one, instead of a slow spill, steady evolve, re-written, re-dressed Kelly Kapoor one, which is not a criticism. Just I would’ve seen that potential sooner, and would’ve addressed it.

You could be the new Deschanel. You might meet Jennifer Aniston.


But I Always Will

Maybe we live together. Maybe the separation’s temporary. Maybe we’ve got Joey and Pacey longevity. Destiny’s viewed most clearly once it’s happened.

Maybe one day we’ll wake up and realise we’re not George Clooney, Lisa Snowdon, but that’s okay because we won’t be in the past, then.