It’s 2:30am and I have to go to the bathroom again. I am glad that you put in that nightlight in our room so I won’t trip in the dark. There was a time where this time usually meant we would trip the light fantastic. That was a long time ago, when we met during my Goodbye party. You bought me a bottle of Blue Label. That was our hello. We would meet under a drunken haze of sake and dark smokey karaoke rooms. We could dance the night away. Until your haze turned into blackouts. One night I had to drag you home. I remembered how heavy you felt but I was able to keep you safe. The next day you saw the light and said never again. That it was your job to take care of me, not the other way around. You never touched a drink again. It has been many years since we’ve danced. You were such a great dancer.

You are so warm, and reality is so cold. I will try to hold it in just for a moment to rest my head on your chest. I now want to listen to your heartbeat, and I feel your breath keeping its own time. Although digital clocks stopped having hands a long time ago, but they still point out that time continues to count up – 2:32am – but my love we are in the middle of a countdown. Our time together, as we know, is coming to an end.

When we first met, I had no idea we would be lying here almost 10 years later. We’ve built a life learning the steps to what we thought would be a just a dance, for both of us a rebound, but we have turned into a well oiled machine. You alarm will go off, to wake us at 6. Have breakfast, you will have gluten free cereal, I will eat strawberries and coffee. We take showers, go to work. Text throughout the day. Come back together around 6 again, eat dinner, watch what’s on our DVR, the evening news for weather and sleep.

Predictability is the water of our life.

Whether you know it or not, we won’t be able to do this anymore. I feel the waves rushing towards the sands of time. It’s 2:40am.

I can try to hold back the water as long as I can, but eventually it will make our machine rusty and obsolete.

One day soon you will wake up and realize we are now different people. Will I still look the same to you? Will you remember the way you used to look at me before we fell asleep? When we’d wake up? The laughter we could share at any time. Picking up and leaving whenever our heart wanted to wander. I will miss our bed, with just you and me. Will you be willing to share it with someone else when they can reach it? Will you reach out for her hand instead of mine?

For now the time is still ours, but soon it will not.

Thank you for showing me how to love, I will carry everything I’ve learned all these years. The generosity, the graciousness and the humility you’ve taught me through example. As loyal as my heart has been, as it could only beat for you, I will learn that it’s ok to love someone else even bigger or better than I’ve loved you. I will promise not be jealous if she shows that she loves you more than me. I will try to remember when I feel alone and losing my mind, that I’m not really alone. That it is ok to ask for help, even if you are not there with me. When I’m forced to feed others when I feel I have no more to give, I will remember how you nourished my soul at my very worst.

I’m sure we will never forget our years together. Maybe that’s not true. Will we? A bad memory is such a vicious fate. Will you forgive me if you never know I’ve long gone? Why are the worst goodbyes the ones that are never said? The worst deaths are the ones we never know happened.

I have only loved you in my heart all these years, is there room for someone else? As I listen to your steady heartbeat, I remember I have stopped feeling my heartbeat long ago. It makes my chest hurt. Or maybe it’s just that something is kicking inside me. I’m not sure. I’m having trouble breathing while lying down, I don’t want to wake you but I know I should go, because its now almost 3. The alarm is about to go off quicker than we know.