It was 4 am when I awoke next to you on your bed; I didn’t remember anything but I didn’t feel shame. It was you and waking next to you wasn’t a habit but it could have been. But you didn’t want any habits, unless you count alcohol and cigarettes as a habit.
We stopped talking after this particular day. I was waiting for you to come back but the waiting led me elsewhere and I am now in a better place. I should have known better than to think that you would ever actually fall for me. All the language that you used to first exalt me and then to undress me to the littlest core.
I let you have me. I took part in every single thing that you asked of me. I let you kiss me, I felt your fingertips send electricity through my being, and I felt the first ever euphoria about meeting someone who made my soul spin. But with that spin came consequences.
I spent august with you drinking, smoking, and talking. Every time I saw you I would become excited and would prepare an outfit that would distinguish your version of Laura from any others. I wanted so badly for you to stay. But the truth is that I was only one of the many escapes that you use to feel anything. Eventually your attention faltered but this post is not about cataloguing our moments. It is closure, and it is the looking back that I need to move on.
We woke up and you kissed my shoulder, my neck, my face. I gave you, a last give of pleasure. And after you felt a release, you closed your eyes. I lay next to you unsure of what to do. And I looked at your face. You had the most beautiful features that I ever saw in a man. But as I got up to leave and you cleaned up the covers, I saw that this was not love. And I left knowing that this was the end.
I told you I loved you. Did I mean it? Yes except love in my opinion is not an attachment but a promise to accept. I accepted your shortcomings and also knew that it was time to leave. You came back but I was free of your game.