You yelled at me, said I had to go, that you couldn't stand stay with someone that didn't love you back. I went away and stopped at a bar, and I got drunk and shouted at my friends. I told them it was your fault, that you thought just because we had sex we were in love and I called you ugly names and spread your dirty habits. At midnight I started crying, confessed it was all my fault: that we made love instead of sex and I cursed my filthy mouth for calling you bad names and stammered about my ugly mind and how you seemed the beauty on it. At 3am I called a cab, went home and had a bath and then I smoked cigarettes until I lied in bed and slept. At 7am I woke up, dressed myself exactly how I knew you liked and I bought you gifts and kept repeating the speech I've prepared. I walked to your apartment with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, and a pack of your favorite cigarettes: I know I screwed up. But, please, believe me, it was because I was afraid. I thought I’d get too attached to you and then get sick when you left me. Or that I would somehow stop loving you and you’d get mad and broken. All I feared was failure. But now I see you’re sad and I know I failed by not saying the words. And though it might be too late, I want you to know I won’t give up on you – and if it is too late, then I will want another chance because yes, I do, “I love you”.
We drank the whole bottle that same morning – while we were undressed and smoked his favorite cigarettes - and when he asked me why I brought him flowers I told him they represented the tears I cried. "It's a big bouquet", he said. "It was a long night", I replied.