Goodbye.

I'm sitting here, wide-awake.  According to your clock, it's nearly 3am.

You're lying next to me, facing me.  You look peaceful, your frown lines are no longer visible in the calm of sleep.  Those frown lines, probably caused by me over time.  In this moment, you look like the man I fell in love with.

You're sleeping deeply.  I can tell because your breath is slow and steady.  There isn't much I could do to wake you right now.  Not that I want to.

I think back to how I used to enjoy waking up before you.  Stretching in bed, watching you inhale and exhale, slowly tracing your outline with my fingers.  Moving my hand lower until I reached my target and then sliding my body down so that my mouth could claim my prize.  Keeping my eyes open so I could watch as you woke up and realized why you felt so good.  Feeling your hands tangle in my hair, urging me on.  Licking my lips once you were done and sheepishly saying good morning.  Knowing that you would relish making me feel just as good.

I miss those days.  I miss when I thought you were all I needed.  When all I wanted was lying in bed with me.  I miss the bliss of love, the ignorance of youth.



And now you lie so close to me, sleeping without a care in the world, and the thought of waking you up at all puts me on edge.  I like you better sleeping now.  I just wish I could be sleeping too, unaware of the inevitable for a few hours longer.

Still obviously unconscious, you reach your arm toward me.  It rests on my thigh for an instant before I move it back toward you.  You shift and furrow your brow, recreating the wrinkles I am now accustomed to seeing.  I wonder what you're dreaming about, but it's probably better that I don't know.

I know that I will never be able to fall asleep with you close enough to reach out and touch me.  I will be tense and frustrated and staring at the ceiling all night, prepared to remove your hand again.  Ready to keep you at a distance.

It's easier to grab my pillow and head to the couch.  In the morning, you will be confused by my absence, until I explain that my back was sore.  It's not the first time I've opted for the couch for such a reason, and you won't question it.  Not now at least.

When you think back, though, after I've left and you climb into bed alone, will you see that I couldn't sleep near you?  Will you recognize that we hadn't fallen asleep intertwined in months?  Will you think back to the last time you woke up with me pleasing you and remember when it had stopped?  Will you ever understand why?

I glance at you again as I climb out of bed, pillow in hand, and walk out of the room.  Good night, I whisper.  Goodbye.

1:43am  24.4.12