It thought about killing myself the last night I spent with you because I wanted you to be the last thing I saw the feeling I felt when you smiled at me over your shoulder to be the last thing I felt I wanted to die in such bittersweet happiness. I refused to drive you home saying I was too tired and I was but not the way I intended you to take it. I knew that if I drove you home then that if that was the last moment I spent with you if I had to say goodbye at the door to your flat and drive away alone in the middle of the night through the empty town with an empty passenger seat to my empty room that I would have driven that soulless rental car into a tree rather than go back to a bed empty of you to a room that smelled of your cigarettes already going stale to a dent in the covers in the shape of your hips. I would have said goodbye to everything rather than say goodbye to you in that surreal instant. But you stayed and I slept in the comfort of your presence and in the morning drove you home held still in your arms one last time watched you turn and walk away one last time up the stairs and through the heavy door and then I drove away drove myself home in circles crying until I felt as empty as my room.