Fast fading.

We're a cliche,you and me.
A habit done to death.
A song on the last note.
The strains are fast fading,come quick,
And maybe,we can sing along for one last time.

We're a story,you and me.
Deliciously unpredictable.
Yet,how ironic,that we must end how most stories end,
Quietly.No fanfare.A clean break.
A few sniffles.
Maybe,for old times' sake,we share a cuppa,for one last time?

We're old news,you and me.
The magic ain't there no more.
Or maybe,they make better fireworks in the world nowadays.
Whatever.But before the small talk sets in,
Surely we can grant us one last conversation,for one last time?

One last time just slipped away,didn't it?Or did it?