I want to reach for you.
Every fibre of my being strains towards you, dying for the home I have found in your arms. Your wool coat is damp with the autumn mist, and I know that if I took handfuls of it and buried my face in your collar you'd smell like rain and cold nights.
I can't look into your eyes. Dark sapphires that retreat into the shadow of your mistrust... But you can't bear my gaze either.
What a pair we are, my love.
I keep my hands buried deep in my pockets and just watch you walk away.
You say leaving is easier.
How does that explain the ease with which you'll find yourself again between my sheets when life's cruelty has you frantic and fragile?
