I'm leaving on a jetplane.

Four goodbyes and uncountable kisses later, you used your same old tactic to rid yourself of me. I know how you hate to say goodbye. I know how much the mere sight of me relieves you, how the slightest touch excites you, the faintest smile makes your day.
Just a month and a half baby, hold on to our memories.
I loved the idea of spending a whole day with you so far away from all the restrictions, curfews, watchful eyes. I loved holding your hand in public and kissing you whenever I felt like. I loved snuggling into you at night, waking up five times in the middle to still find you holding on to me, snoring in my ear.
Haye meri jaaaaaaaaaan. Na jao na.
I want to treasure every moment on this day. From the time I saw you standing outside the airport, to when I ran to you and cried on your shoulder. When you brought me to the hotel room, held me close and told me you're here and everything is gonna be alright, to when you stared at me while I gobbled down a plateful of rice.
I can't believe you're here. This is it!
I don't want this to end. I want to curl up into you every night. I want to make crazy videos, ditch movies, roam around the room naked, order room service, spend the whole day with you.
I can still hear you move behind me and smell my hair and tell me how much you love it, I can still feel your hands moving all over me, your lips locking with mine in a paradox of complete frenzy and soft affection. I can smell you in the shirt I'm wearing. The shirt I stole off you cause I could not stand being away from you for so long.
Cigarettes and Brut. So you.
I want to bury my face in the shirt, breathe you in, and turn to my pillow to absorb my pain.