35. I never told you this, but....

I love the labels you've put for each blog entry. 

I was just reading through something you wrote for me a while back....

How Things Could Be.

Saturday morning.

Earlier than the birds.

My teeth no longer grind, my breathing light and shallow when I sleep. It’s September. We spent the summer renting out our two bedroom flat in Chalk Farm while we drifted off for the previous two hot months in Spain, Portugal and Morocco, taking pictures, drawing each other, writing stories, eating locally and making love.

You stir before me, and the sound of you quietly wrapping your dressing gown around your soft naked body makes me wake up. You do our symbol for “tea?” with your hands in a T shape, and I do our reply: the nod.

I roll back over and curl up on my side into a ball. I can hear the kettle start to boil, but over the hum I can hear you and our dog saying good morning to each other. I smile. You both think I can’t hear you.

I kick the feather light covers back and realising I am completely undressed, reach down the side of our bed to find those peach fabric knickers, the ones you think look like bare skin from a distance, and pull them on along with a loose white vest and come into the kitchen to join you. You aren’t making tea though, you are making real coffee. I tip toe up behind you and wrap my arms around your middle, snuggling my nose into your neck and breathing in the scent of your skin. I stroke your hips as I pull away walk over to the door of the garden. 

This makes me so sad to read. I wish we could work things out so we could live this life, together.

I love you Alice. x