He texted and asked if he could come over for tea tomorrow night after we get back from the hospital. And I texted back saying I wanted him to come home, properly, tonight. That I wanted flowers and mix tapes and his whole heart and I couldn't hold onto a ghost any more, and if he couldn't come back, I would accept that, and I would be fine. And I texted him a poem. And a link to a song. And I bought a leg of lamb and put it in the oven. And then I bought a packet of cigarettes and sat in the garden getting rained on for an hour.
I know. I know. Whatever 2x4s people are about to dish out to me, I am already dishing them out to myself.
The thing is, I mean it. I do. I can't hold on to him any more and if he can't give me more and be a husband to me and at least start making a repair, then I need to get out, drop the rope and go dark because this sadness is too much. I am moving towards happiness and that means away from him.
