The last time

I spend the early hours of this morning wishin I had this bed to myself, because then I would be able to sleep, and now I do I can't. Everything smells of you. The air smells of you even where you haven't been and it's torture. My head is playing out situations and I can't get it to stop thinking about wanting to be with you, because I don't want to want that. At least I don't want to want this much. And I suppose now that everyone must know, because they saw you leave last night and not go back until today, it might not happen any more, and that would probably be a good thing because stopping this now, right now, is the only way I'm going to be able to get back in control and we can be friends again, same old same old, although not doubt I'll still be wishing that we'd carried on.