I fucking hated what you were doing to me. But more than that, I hate that you knew you were doing it. And that I was letting you.
I can put my phone down beside my bed and pull my two layers of blankets up over my shoulders, rolling over until I face the wall becoming so content and ready for sleep. But as soon as my phone lights up and I know it’s you, I’ll take the chance of being restless just to see what you have to say. Because time spent on you is much more comforting.