Forward

This time.
I do it every time.
This is one I pulled out from the rest.
Forward.
Uncountable, the times I said enough
and then the next day, did it again.
The pain, the willpower
of commitments and expectations.
What someone else wants from me.
What I deliver on bended knee.
This face, these eyes,
take another step away from being young.
This time, it is the last of mine,
if I can get the nerve to say good-bye.