My beautiful creature,
Every time I think everything has tumbled to the ground, burned to ashes and there's nothing left, a new day comes, we talk and somehow... It's OK again. Or as ok as it can be in our circumstances. It's OK again.
How the hell is it OK again?
How do we always manage to do this?
How are you still here?
I ask and yet I know how. I know why. I know why I'm still here, too.
I hope that I'm writing this as you sleep. Like we talked. That you sleep, and that sleep is calm, without any dreams - I won't hope for the good ones, not just yet. It would be too much to ask for. But I hope that you sleep after rubbing your feet together, after caressing and feeding the cats, after having a long, deep and calming breath.
I wrap around this thought, around you as I finally sit down with a glass of wine and a plate of blue cheese - to watch traitors. Something to discuss when we can't talk to each other directly. With - now - my hurting knees, because I kept doing kips (jumping up and landing on my knees with a clack) in 8 inch heels for the past two hours.
In the corner of my mind I picture you sleeping, calm and content, as The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace plays somewhere in my head. Just a tip (that's what she said) - if you press on the differently coloured letters, they'll open things up. Just saying. Just so you know.
I hope you do sleep. God you deserve it. We deserve it.
We can't keep going like this, self destructing, not falling asleep, then waking up at 3am, letting our emotions wreck us until we meet. I can't allow it.
You know I want you happy.
And that means to keep your body warm, belly full of good, healthy food and not just crisps and chocolate, smile on your face, and caress the shit out of you. Hug the shit out of you. I can't do any of these things, so I ask you to do all of that for me. I know it's a lot. I know. And I can't really ask for anything, can I?
But please take care of yourself.
Sleep. As calmly as you can. Imagine me in the curve of your neck.
I can't protect you with force, kicks and punches. I'm not stupid. I'm not a man. I'm not strong. But I write that I wrap myself around you - that's all I have. Warmth. Care. Love. That's the only protection I can offer. I hope that it's enough, at least for tonight.
I feel like I have so much to tell you. So much.
But today has been hard enough already.
Sleep, my dear.
My beautiful - absolutely beautiful - creature, with a slightly deeper dimple in your right cheek. Sleep like one of your cats, even if muttering something incoherent. Sleep with me wrapped around you. Sleep with all the softness you can muster. With all the gentleness I can give you, even if it's imaginary.
We deserve a breather.
You most of all.
So breathe.
Sleep.
Please.
And I'll try to do the same because I know you'd want that for me.
Maybe that's what this is all about. Just... Care.
Knowing that you're not alone. That there's someone out there - maybe not in the same house, or bed, or at the same table - who is dying inside knowing that you're suffering. Who would sell their soul to make sure you're OK.
I hope you're ok.
I hope you've drifted off a while ago, and will wake up to this, and smile. And it won't be at 3am.
And hopefully not even 5.
One day I'll tell you my favourite bedtime story from a very, very sad play that I read ages ago. I don't know what it is about it, but it makes me tear up and smile at the same time. One day. One day...
And for now...
Goodnight, my dear.
Or even better - good morning.