I left a note...

Hi,

      You'll probably think badly of me for leaving, but I have to go. I hope this gives you some sort of closure.

I didn't leave because you were bad. I didn't leave because I regret it. I didn't leave because I had somewhere to be or someone to see. I left because I was scared. The smile of a satisfied slumber that I found upon my face as I woke was enough to tell me to run. But that was before I even set my eyes on you. The grace of a smile playing against your soft, cherry lips; the slight flutter of your eyelids evidence of your pleasant dreams; the soft curve of your hip the resting place for the palm of my rugged hand, whilst your own lay - entwined - against my chest; the mass of tousled, sandy waves spread across the pillow, glowing in the diffident light of dawn. Our legs tangled in a skein of our predicament: the embrace in which I found us almost illicit for our fortuity.

But was it fortuitous? Or was this meant to happen? Questions like this seeped into my brain and flooded it with hope for the future, and I got scared. Looking at you in that moment, seeing your face without the worry lines and your muscles in a state of relaxation sent me spiralling into a world of what ifs. What if I could relieve your stresses and worries every day? What if you woke up and our conversation continued into the late hours of the evening? What if, at the end, we said our goodbyes but it didn't feel like it was the last time? What if... What if I didn't want it to be the last time?

The overwhelming feeling of domesticity combined with the way our bodies lay intertwined like two pieces of a puzzle compelled me to leave. Who knows? - this could be one of the biggest mistakes of my life... But it's better wondering what could have been than venturing into something new and coming out hurt, ending up in the same bar with the same reason, and yet another night like the last.