I watch you as you sit there, watching him. You don't know I'm here; you can't see me. You want to go to him so badly—I can see it in the way you lean forward in your chair, in the way your gaze darts away when he looks up, in the way your breathing hitches when you realize he's still looking at you. You want him. He wants you.
I've done all I can to stay with you. I've given you reminders of my love. I've left you notes, though my handwriting isn't as legible as it used to be. I've pledged endearments to you, though my voice is but a whisper of what it once was. I've tried my best to keep you with me. Chained to me. But you long to leave. If I had more time, maybe I could make you see. Maybe I could make you understand that, despite everything that's happened, I'm still here with you. I still love you. I still want you. I still long for your touch, for the slide of your lips against mine, for the hot tangle of our legs entwined in the sheets. For you to simply see me. Hear me.
He makes the decision for you. For both of us. He leaves his table and walks over to you. Walks right through me. Gives no mind to the rush of air or the sudden chill he feels as he grins down at you and asks if he can join you. You take a deep breath…uncertain. Hesitant. You look to your right, though you're not sure why. Your lips part in a silent gasp and you look up. But not at me. You will never look at me again. But you feel the press of my nearness even as a slow smile tugs your lips upward and you nod.
It's time. And I must go. I press an invisible kiss to the top of your head and you shiver.
"What is it?" he asks, reaching out to touch your hand.
"Live well," I whisper against your ear.
Your eyes widen and you shake your head. "Noth…" You clear your throat. "Nothing."