300

Sometimes looking at this bed is the worst part of the day. How much love was made here. Although at the time it wasn't love. We never made love, you said. You said we only fuck. After your 32 years on earth, you never held love for anything. And with my simple 22 i have held more love then anyone can imagine.

And I always remember back to that night. With lights flashing at the threat of jail time, only then did you say it. But it was as if it was being riped from your lips. As if you didn't want to, but obligation made it spill forth like a drunken college girls vomit. Afterwards on the drive home you held my hand. It was like nothing happened. Upon getting home we sat on the couch and watched 300. Which to this day, never made any sense to me. We had narrowly escaped being hauled off to jail and then we came home and watched 300. There is no connection I can make there.

And for the first time in a year you asked me to spend the night. As we climbed into bed I thought what a wonderful day this has been. As redundant and overused this sentence is, all my dreams have came true.

But. As does everything good in my life, it ended. In four short words that I had to read across a tiny screen. It was over and I became another cliche.