Laying in the living room of this Chicago flat tonight, I lie on this air mattress and dream of you resting beside me. There are not enough pillows for me to hug you the way I do on a normal night. There are not enough ways for me to describe what all of this means. I am relegated to this room because you are not here and will not be and that will be better for the enjoyment of these boys, but I long for a day in which you are back here with me. Your smiling face meeting their smiling face. They do love you, you know? It was told to me tonight as being so.
I realize now, and finally, that you are not the vampires with which I tend to tarry these days. I never wanted to suck you dry. I feel, and Robert agrees, that you have my best interest at heart. All of the other women want me for them. You, to the extent that you want me, want me for the both of us. I want that too. I wish I could teleport you beautiful and perfectly tanned ass to this room as I am writing this. Not for sex, or even conversation, just for a cuddle and an affirmation that I have never had it better, and maybe you have never had it better too.