Once.

We go home every day with memories filling up our pockets and photos hidden in our irises and no one ever seems to notice. The days pass and the nostalgia lies behind your eyelids and the important things lurch in the safety of your carefully entwined rib cage. The things we don't say are forcefully choked back; the things that were once on the tip of your tongue become uncomfortably lodged in your throat and the daily conversations become difficult and stifled. The things we never said mount up. Eventually, they become the things we will never say again. At all, or to each other. 

A tear pricks my cheek, and my chest feels hollow. I'd never felt that before and I knew then, I'd never feel it again. And thank god. There was something comforting in that. In knowing that I could only go through this once.