Favorite Mistake

Written during my layover in Schipol, too poor to afford internet there so I'm posting it now.

Waking up to the sound of leaves settling on the back porch.  You left the window open again and you know I hate leaving it open since we lost the screen last week, the bugs get in and it’s impossible to get them to leave.  But you’re right, it’s so damn humid in here we’re sticking to the sheets and the sheets are sticking to the mattress and the bed posts are probably sticking to the hardwood floor and so on and so on.  I can’t even lay near you tonight, it’s too hot, you’re too warm and sweet and I’m too distant to even imagine kissing you right now.  I’d rather make you up in my head and dream something so much more perfect than the reality of our situation - laying here, window open, screen slashed, mosquitoes buzzing by the light on my bed stand, a book left dog-eared and thrown at the foot of our bed by you, by me, who knows.  I can’t sleep when the weather gets like this, but the minute your face hits the pillow you’re no longer available for small talk and pre-sleep nothingness chatter, so I talk to myself.  I write down my thoughts in a battered little black notebook in my horrible scribbled English and hope that I can find them sometime after right now, can remember them and smile on the moments when I hated you so much I was sick and I loved you so deeply I was tired and I was so confused by you I almost left in the middle of the night, in the middle of one of these sticky hot nights that I hate so much.  I suppose that, all this trouble, it’s all worth it when I wake up to your face asking me if I’m going to make coffee before work.  You know the answer is always yes, and yes I’ll always bring you a cup before I shower.  I’m desperate to love, desperate to take care of you, desperate to be the parts of you that you can’t be for yourself.  I love these despicable summer nights, not because of the sticky sweaty sheet situation I find myself in daily, but because of you, and your laugh, and your teeth and your hair that is always so incredibly messy when you wake up that I can’t help but laugh and run my hands through it.  Coffee time, baby?  We’ve been awake for a while now.