Leaving

I wake at sunrise,
scramble the last four eggs.

The smell of coffee
percolates through the apartment.

From the bedroom,
the soft steady rhythm
of your snoring.

It all feels so right.
So natural.
So real.

Two years is almost eternity.

Tears begin to fall.
I burn the eggs,
dump them in the trash.

You wake to find me
sitting on the floor
by the big window,
unraveling.

You sit beside me,
hand on my shoulder,
run your fingers through my hair,
and I melt into you.

You don't ask why.