Words feel useless, the more they come out.
I hope this will be the last letter I write to you like this, but who knows when I can stop?
I am waiting for you to leave now still, when you’re ready. I don’t have the strength to do it myself just yet. There are many ways to say goodbye and none of them neat and tidy. So it is easy, I don’t mind that you come to me to breathe in my ear one more time. I am happy for this indulgence though I am surprised you choose to take part. I am surprised you use the same lies as me after all, the way I kiss X on his neck, saying sorry, on his mouth, begging sorry, pushing my body onto him in cringing apology, it is the same way you murmur uneasily that the last thing you want is to make this any harder for me. It doesn’t matter what we say or don’t say, it is easy. I have a whole lifetime to adjust to afterwards when you are gone and I am nothing if I cannot adjust. I hope only that you know what you are doing, on my side, I know perfectly, my choice, I’m waiting once more to be a body against yours, craning my whole body over your cock to fuck you one more time, I am listening, just one more time, for you, and then you’ve cum and so have I, I’ve done it for me, but also for you, shy and proud and relieved and laughing and moaning out my undulating after-shocks, and you’re sighing, muttering your post-orgasm nonsense, murmuring…babe…babe…and I feel, for a moment again, free, and I don’t care that you have to leave soon after, because I feel, for a moment again, perfect.
Think of me when you can.