No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

I made my bed, now I must lie in it. Alone.

One of the boys I will love till the day I die is currently trying to sleep downstairs on the sofa.  And all I want to do, is curl up in the same bed, our bodies wrapped around each other, and have him tell me everything will be all right.  That my faith in people isn't misplaced.  That I am a good person.  That one day I will wake up and feel happy.  That in spite of myself, he loves me.

But I can't, because I made my decision, and I have to live with it.  I don't doubt it was the right one, I look at him, and I love him, and I get hard over him, but I don't want to be with him any more, so I know it was the right decision, but that choice can still hurt, and I can still want him to be the one who makes me the centre of his world when I'm feeling bad, and I can curl up in my bed alone and wish that I could go downstairs and hold him, and pretend that doesn't make things harder for the both of us, even if it's just for one night.

-- Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be 'morrow.

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