I’m sick of being told I’m too young. I’m sick of knowing that I can’t ask because it wouldn’t be negotiable. Most of all I’m sick of sleeping alone. Yes I’m young, yes sleeping alone should be the least of my problems, I should be sleeping alone for the next 3 years before I meet ‘someone’. But I’ve met you. Done. Just like that. I’ve met you and known you and loved you for 3 and half years and I’m sick of saying that to everyone I meet, but go home to a cold bed.
I want to say that I’ve loved you for 3 years, 7 months, 1,350 and a half days, 32,412 hours, 1,944,720 minutes and countless, endless seconds gazing into your eyes, and then go home to bed where I’m undressing you and holding your bare body against mine under the crisp white sheets, feeling your loving warmth wash over me and fill me with this security I never feel with anyone else when you’re holding me in your arms.
I want to look at you socialising at a party, watching you laugh and smile, listen intently as you furrow your eyebrows, and I want someone to come up to me and ask if that’s ‘him’. I’ll smile and nod, and know that later on you’ll be mine and no one else’s, body, mind and soul. I just want to be with you, I just want us to stop being restricted by age and judgement and just love and live like everyone else. I don’t want to be writing this.
I’d rather be falling asleep to the steady soundtrack of your beating heart.