We've broken up over the phone last week. I said it wasn't working out, you said we outgrew each other. We were basically saying the same thing at the same time.

So I didn't think twice when you asked to meet up earlier today. For old times sake, you said, as if we've actually been friends. And I reasoned we both deserved to be dumped in person, for civility at least. After all, there wasn't anything to lose here for me, only something to let go.

Now it's three a.m. and I am lying beside you on your bed. The room reeked of sex that just happened. Thrice.

In the afterglow, I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling, at the walls. I listened to the rhythmic lull of your breathing, a melody I have not heard in a long while. I let you snuggle close beside me, tracing your fingertips on the curve of my neck, across my chest, along my collar bones. 

As I absorbed your warmth, you heaved a sigh as if to speak.

I hoped you wouldn't say anything. So I wouldn't have to say that I love this, I just don't love you.