Perfect

5 AM on your couch is beautiful. I want you to know I left because I needed to. I didn't want that now, I didn't want to waste it all. Because I wanted to savor it. I wanted to loll the flavor around on my tongue so I'd remember it, storing it away like so many other things. But this one is special, this is one that wouldn't destroy my tepid soul like the others. This is the good kind of crazy.

Thank you for taking me in. At least for the night. I bit down too hard and I'm sorry, I let it all go. And I'd do it again. I hope you know that. I'm sure you'll blame yourself, but I hope you understand, I really think you do. Isn't it strange how two people that lived such odd different lives 10 years ago could be so eerily similar now? And I meant what I said, I remember everything. You even smell the same. And I'm the same, forever chasing the boy who I could never really be sure wanted to give me the time of day. But it is more fun now, you said yourself.

I never wanted anything tangible, nothing real - it hurt too much. You've changed my mind, at least right now. I want nothing more than to be welcomed on that couch. I want nothing more than to get to that point where I stay. But maybe your entire mystique is in your selection; only occasionally.

I'm not sure if you figured it out, I left the stockings on purpose. If I broke you'd have them at least. I bought them from the place you remind me so much of, the place you feel like. London, my favorite city in the world. London was sweet release, London was a nervous breakdown and an infallible adoration with a man who was half Egyptian. London was something I'd romanticized as everything I'd wanted best. London was where I could touch me. You remind me of all that; you're perfect.

I left you while you were sleeping because I wanted you to stay that way, untouched, undisturbed, far away and nearly unreachable.

I'll get there someday.