She was perfect. I know, I know... every guy probably says that about the girl he is crazy about.

That was the problem. I wasn’t crazy about her.

I lay awake in bed grinding my brain into threads trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I glanced down at the Goddess purring quietly with her head nestled on my chest. She had tangled her delicate arms into my soul; she dreamt in peace, naked and safe.

Her soft skin coated my ink-splashed body radiating her love into every heartbeat I had. I couldn’t help but admire her golden curves accentuating her divine proportions. Her hips fit like a puzzle piece into my own and her left thigh, half tucked under my right leg caught the shadows of the moon.

Her form made me hungry. That luscious ass she would tease me with while shooting mischievous looks over her shoulder. She knew what she was doing. She moaned softly and snuggled her self deeper into my being.

I remember the first time we made love… Her clothes floated from her body like rose petals and exposed indescribable breasts; I’m pretty sure I came before I got there. Somewhere between animalistic desire and unbearable pleasure, her angelic voice dotted the skyline raining diamonds in my mind. We lay there mumbling unintelligible nonsense, until the post orgasm fallout melted into summertime sleep.

Why!? I cursed myself. I tried to shake her from my mind and pinpoint the source of my dissatisfaction. I tried to figure out where the malfunction was, praying it wasn’t too late to salvage the pistons that used to drive my infatuation. Fuck! What’s wrong with me?

“Babe, you’re still awake?” I was so bent around the twisted avenues of my own dysfunction that I hadn’t notice her wake. She had propped her chin up on my sternum and locked her magnetic blue eyes onto my cold steel pupils. I traced her pouting lips with my tongue behind my teeth and was rendered speechless in the wake of her beauty.

Say something damn it!

“Yeah, I’m still awake babe.” I exhaled, trying to wash the nausea creeping up my gut off of my lungs.

“Are you okay? Do you need a drink?” She propped up onto her elbows in preparation to fetch me some bourbon. God. She was the cutest creature I had ever laid eyes on in that moment.

That’s just how perfect she was. Three months with my reckless tendencies, sleepless nights, and unconventional ideals... she never faltered.

I had become somewhat of functioning alcoholic over time, mostly because I couldn’t sleep. It was 3 in the morning and she knew a couple glasses of bourbon would help me get some much needed rest. I never meet girls like that.

She bought me designer clothes, drove me where I needed to go because I didn’t have a car, planned romantic evenings, wore sexy lingerie all the time, fed me, and would hang out at places I liked even if she didn’t want to. Unreal is probably more fitting of a word to describe her than perfect.

“Babe what’s wrong?” She slid up my body and settled her concerned face close to mine placing a comforting hand on chest.

“I wish I knew…” I muttered, biting at my internal conflict as it escaped my lips.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her tone told me she was ready to stay up as long as need be if it helped me to feel better.

That only made me feel more miserable; the words “I’m such an asshole,” were being broad-casted continuously through a loud speaker in my mind.

I lay there looking up at the ceiling, praying to every God I could think of, begging them to rid me of the demons hollowing out my heart. No answer.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She waited patiently for me to gather my thoughts. I looked down at her and realized how weak of a man I really was. It wasn’t humbling, it was devastating. I wasn’t about to sit there and tell her I was slowly falling out of love with her for no reason.

I mean, how do you even say something like that to a girl who is everything you want and more? I tried to imagine what it might sound like…

“Babe, I think you are an amazing person, you are gorgeous to the point that I crave you regularly, and are better than an amazing girlfriend. Unfortunately, for no apparent reason, I feel less and less like being in this relationship.”

No. That wouldn’t do.

I didn’t even know if that was necessarily true, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with me. I just knew that she deserved better than the indifference that was taking me over. I had to end it.

I couldn't ignore my feelings. Pretending I was still in love with her would be more treacherous than the instant pain that breaking up now would cause. I didn't want to draw things out and make both our lives more painful by sticking around. Whatever the hell was wrong with me needed to get resolved before I’d be any good to anyone.

“Babe, what is it?” She shook my chest gently with her hand. She didn’t look concerned any more, she looked scared. I felt disgusting, like a bacteria slowly eating away at an infant's skin.

“I have to go.” Cold, porcelain words snapped off my tongue like ice shards. I stood and began putting my jeans on.

“What? Why? It’s 3 in the morning. What’s wrong? Just talk to me.” Now she was sitting up in the bed with the comforter wrapped around her like a make-shift coat of armor. I got my second shoe on, turned, and faced her hiding my pain behind a dirty t-shirt.

I had no explanation for myself, I didn’t know what to tell her, I didn't even know what to tell myself. So I lied.

“There is somebody else.” Part of me died right there in her room. The rest of me left, lit a cigarette, and bled to death on the way home.

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