I don’t want to love you anymore because I want to go to sleep. The hours tip toe around one another, while I’m wide-awake, talking the ears off of the sheep above my head. They are smoking cigarettes, rolling their eyes, yelling profane things back at me hoping I’ll just fall asleep already so they can go about their nightly business.
Because I want to be able to go on a date with someone new and not think about you. Not compare the poor lad’s jaw structure to the ways of your chiseled face or think about how I can’t wait to order oysters as an appetizer because I know you’d be thrilled to share them with me. I want to be able to French kiss someone else without thinking about the swirls of your tongue on the roof of my mouth, like defined brush strokes on a familiar canvas.
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