You once asked me why I’m
always gone when you wake up.
I smirked and gave you some
bullshit line, knowing the real answer is too heavy for you.
The real answer?
You twitch in your sleep, and
my mind never fully rests when you’re around. One movement, one sound from you
and suddenly I’m awake.
It’s an established routine –
one that makes me happy and breaks my heart at the same time.
It starts with a dry mouth –
reaching over you for the water bottle you keep on the table. I’ll search for
my phone in the mass of tangled sheets. I find a few missed calls from my
friend, wondering where I disappeared to (and a few ‘get it bitchhhhh’ texts from when she inevitably figured it out). Then
I’ll find my clothes - the ones you so carelessly stripped me of the night
And then … I linger, crawling
back into bed. I’ll watch you for a while, committing every beautiful detail to
memory. I’ll indulge myself with just a little more time spent in your arms, my
head on your chest – lulled by the deep thump
thump thump of your heartbeat.
When dawn comes, I feel pulled
toward the door. I always kiss you one last time before I go, and you always
kiss me back.
Sometimes I’ll cry when I get to my car. Sometimes I won’t.
Fuck it. The real answer?
leave before you wake up, because I can’t bear to watch you go first.