do you remember the last time?

i do.

it was a quick one. to say goodbye. like the one on tv. (i'd always wanted to live like the people on tv. the irony of it does not fail me.) you smelt of sofa and sleep and you felt like home. you didn't walk me out like you usually did but it did not matter then (he'll do it next time, he's so tired it'd be terrible to make him walk out, he needs his rest, he's got to study.). you just let me go with a speedy hug and kiss at the door that could have been meant for any stranger, for any it-was-nice-seeing-you-again acquaintance. it could have been out of comfort, the innate knowledge that i could kiss you longer, harder, with more feeling the next day and the days and months and years after that. or it could have been a force of habit, something you felt you should do, just to complete the picture, because we all know how you like to end things properly, don't we?

if you had known that it was our last, would you have made it different?

i'm not doing as well as you. or maybe i'm just unafraid to admit it.