I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy, too. Even if you can only find that happiness without me.

Thoughts race, as if, in a mind devoid of memory, each idea has too much space to grow and move, to collide with others in a shower of sparks before spinning off into its own distance.

I closed my eyes and he kissed my eyelids, barely brushing them with his lips. I felt safe, at home. I felt as if here, against his body, was the only place in which I belonged. The only place I had ever wanted to be. We lay in silence for a while, holding each other, our skin merging, our breathing synchronized. I felt as if silence might allow the moment to last for ever, which would still not be enough.

I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless. I didn't feel ashamed.

Work. Write. Read. Keep putting words on the page, because that's the only way you'll get better.

And then, when there is nothing else between us but love, we can begin to find a way to truly be together.

Do you trust me? The question is usually asked before an admission that such trust is misplaced.