He finished making the coffee, and handed me a cup. He told me about his work and his schooling and his family and mine. How could I have missed out on so much life? He told me he was just glad to see me out of bed again, and I recalled a time where we would go out for breakfast and laugh and feel and everything felt right. But things were different then, of course I miss it too, of course if I had a say in how my mind worked, I would tell it to stop feeling sorry for itself but that doesn’t seem to work. He placed his mug beside me and used both of his hands to cup my face. I looked into his eyes and just prayed he saw something more than I did when I was looking into the mirror earlier.
“You are so beautiful.” He said as he pressed his lips to mine. I kissed him back deeply, but not too deeply. The last time he commented on how passionately I kissed him, it was because I was going to kill myself later that evening. It would be rude to remind him of that today.