but I never had to hold you by the edges like I do now

I tread quietly these days, watching planes cover the moon, sipping tea. Sometimes there are outbursts, laughter at night in the small crevices of New York City bars. I read (yet another) article about the fall of newspapers and I continue to brace for an end that never quite comes.
This quietness these days, I save my words for letters and e-mails and phone calls. I'm exhausted by small talk and I crave my best friends who are scattered across this world that I'm dying to see.
Tonight, amidst cranberry sauce and Sangiovese wine and too much talk of real estate for my liking, I wrote smallish notes to myself: It's time to leave. But first, the waiting.