The minute he leaves, I curl up in his spot. I breathe in the scent of his cologne, of his body, where it clings to the pillows and blankets. I wrap myself up, as if I were wrapping myself up in him. It's almost like he's still there, instead of in the freezing cold, driving home to his own house, and his own bed,

And every time he leaves it gets harder and harder to let him go. Every time we are together it is incredible. We laugh, and smile, and play and curl up with one another. It's not frivolous, or fleeting.  And tonight it broke something inside of me to let him untangle from where we were sleeping. It tortures me to watch him slowly put everything back on, slide into his jacket and slip out the door. And just for a moment I can't breathe. My heart stops beating, and then painfully kickstarts up again.

I'm hoping it's a good sign, that I've fallen so deep. I'm hoping this means that he's become so much a part of my life, or of what I want my life to be that I can't imagine a world without him. If this is the case then I'm thinking I need to start kicking him out at midnight, like some ridiculous teenager. Perhaps if I don't get used to the feel of his body warm against mine at 3 am it would be easier to let him walk away. Somehow I doubt it. But anything is better than feeling a piece of your heart shatter when you let go of his hand right before he walks out the door.