This is me, talking

I don't think it's the truth but it's the easiest way to put it. Easy is the last thing this exercise in emotional attachment has been. But oh, so worth it. So worth it, my darling boy. I can smile at the memory of your head on my chest. And those eyes. I didn't know what colour they were at first because I didn't spend enough time gazing into them and stroking your chin, hardly impeded by your day-old stubble.

Luckily, I learned my lesson in time. And I can still feel your chin graze my thighs, like a phantom limb. That's precisely what we were; phantom. But oh, so worth it. So worth it, dearest one. Do you remember when you kissed my neck? I drove home, drunk and giddy with desire. I didn't know that you were not ready. And truthfully, you aren't ready now. You were not ready when you drew me in after I had erased you from my mind. And you were not ready when you tugged at my clothes and lay in awe of my flabby, confident body.

As you traced my spine on what I had decided was the final night, for the final time, I allowed myself to imagine a time when we would be not only right for each other but right, at the right time. It has been unbelievable, in the best and worst of ways. And oh, so worth it. So worth it.

T