His breathing evens out before mine, the hand that was tracing lines over my shoulder falling to the side. I’m grateful he’s the one to succumb first, because it gives me a chance to memorize every inch of him. Each strand of hair laying out of place, all the freckles dotting his nose, the way his eyelashes brush over his cheekbones when he sleeps, every rise and fall of his chest as he slumbers. I take all these little pieces of him for myself, gathering them one by one in my mind. There’s no doubt I’ll have to box them up eventually, put them under lock and key in order to move on from the
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This is madness goodbye
