I can't do this

I can't do this anymore. I can't be with you and not be with you. Maybe in time, but it still hurts me too much. 

My stupid masochistic alter ego begs me to wait until after jaipur. Then after Chinese New year.  After all, she won't be around during CNY so I can have you to myself for a week. 

But what is it for? You aren't going to love me again nor do i want you to. There is no future for you and I so why prolong the inevitable. Might as well cut it quickly and let the healing properly begin.

You hardly message me. I wonder what is going on with Anne. Did she leave? Did she stay? I'm too curious for my own good. I actually typed out asking you if she was still there, then I deleted it before sending. You know I'm always wanting to hear from you so when you don't message, I can only deduce that you don't have anything to say to me. 

And I don't want to be the drama one. You have enough drama women in your life.

So don't worry, when I leave, it will be quietly. 

I will still do the tattoo.  After all, it is in memoriam of a short, sweet love. And like all good deaths, it should be laid to rest and only occasionally visited on special days to remember happier days gone by. 

When my body lies lifeless
and cold one day,
the faded marks
on my back will say:
I once loved a brave moon
Who lived at ninety-seven,
Your small, windowless hell
Which was my slice of heaven.

Then in the blink of an eye
The moon moved on
To shine on another
And then our love was gone.
So all that remains
Are the marks of the moon
Which tell the sad story
Of a love that waned too soon.