The gentle pull on my waist as sleep left your body.
The steady stare as the alcohol and lust consumed you.
Your strong and firm kiss when you could not convince me that you loved me more.
The unabated honesty as you confessed that I'm your Daisy Buchanan, and she's our Tom.
The look of sorry deep within your tired blue eyes.
The way you say coffee and hockey and my name.
When you talk about our kids and our home and your job and our future and us.
The anger when you think about him or her or it.
The gentle pecks on my forehead and fingers through my hair and interlaced fingers.
And when you let me in and let me look through the window to your heart.