better wouldn't come from me.

he sat there, unsure of what to say, yet sure it wouldn't help. this was his mistake, but as he sat, watching a tear roll softly down her cheek, pausing beneath her chin, he realized it was never that simple. she was proud, and it was that pride which was wounded, feeling as though it was in some way her fault. watching helplessly, grasping at how to comfort her, she laid back, rolled over and pulled the covers atop herself. he stared ahead blankly, looking out at the sunshine, far off behind the window pane. knowing she both wanted him to hold her and at the same time to leave. standing up he walked slowly around the foot of the bed and sat on his knees before her. tracing strands of hair from her eyes he kissed her forehead gently and holding his lips close to her skin, whispered that she deserved better. then, after sitting back for a second, despite himself, and her eyes silent plea for him to stay- he walked toward the door- not turning or pausing, because he knew better wouldn't come from him.