It is what it should be.

It's always at night that I ache for him.

He sleeps beside me, still to the world and silenced in the movement around him. His features have not changed much from years ago. His eyes still bat delicately with the rise and fall of his chest. His lips still pull tight against the ruddy and plump cheeks supporting them, murmuring inaudible words to the night. His arms still reach out pawing at the void surrounding him as I watch him combat the dreams encompassing him.

He is blissfully unaware of the turmoil that surrounds his life.

He sleeps without the hurt of one less heart of which he can hold. He sleeps in a state of comfortable security, my breath holds seconds from his. He sleeps without the hurt of an abandoned child.

How swift the tide of your life moves, drawing back from what you thought could be. I would have listed it all and browsed my faults, still electing to repeat my mistakes for this.

And if the truth were to surface to light it would shine on the ways in which I wanted this this to be, exactly this.