THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
We sit outside our cafe late at night, watching the revellers.
You ask me why I cried yesterday, and I sit in silence for a long time, trying to think of how to say it or if I ought to and at one point throw up my hands and say, 'You will so disapprove!' but I do say it.
I tell you what I thought: That if it were not for you, I would have no reason to stay. I never thought that I wanted to get on an airplane and fly all the way home until I thought about not having you. And you smile and say, Well, isn't that nice and you mean it, but I still frown and I say, No it's horrible! It shouldn't be that way!
As we walk back to Tottenham Court Road hours later you say, 'I should be angrier with you when you talk about leaving.' And I ask you why and you say, 'You have responsibilities... To your flatmate, to your father... To yourself... To me.'
'To you?' I say.
'To me.'
I want you and I want you to stay with me and I want to stay with you. I need you, I don't want to be without you, I can't be.