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He left me! I just have to keep reminding myself that. Everytime I see his face, everytime he smiles at me, or worse, everytime he looks at me like that - his eyes so wide and sad. Thats when its the hardest. When I can see the love in his eyes, written in his face. Thats when I have to tell myself firmly. He left me.
He wears his heart on his sleeve. I used to tell him constantly when we were younger. Its easy to read him. It will be his undoing. Maybe I have had so much practise, but I can tell what his every thought is. He gets angrey so easily, its difficult to tell what will set him off, but I can work it out. Most of the time. I can deal with him angrey. Its when he is being his usual self, stubborness written on every feature, that i had to firmly whisper to myself. He left me.
He needs to be loved. Its infuriating, but he needs to know that soemwhere, somebody loves him. It arises from the loss of his mother at such a young age. But its infuriating non the less. And its when hes surrounded by the people that love him, yet he still looks back at me, smiling that smile, that I have to shout to myself. He left me.
He is bold. And with his boldness comes cheek. He has tried to steal a kiss many times, and each time I control myself and turn him away. He tries again anyway. Its like a game to him, and this annoys me. He never seems to take anything seriously. But when his body is close to mine, and I can feel his breath on my skin, its then I have to scream to myself. He left me.
He knows that its me approaching, more often than not, yet I am still set upon by his men, or by him himself. Its this insistance on frightening my horse for the sake of ceremony, his stubborness in prooving that he can ambuse everyone that travels the path through Sherwood, its this that makes me tell myself firmly. He left me.
He invades my thoughts and my dreams. I cannot turn my head without seeing him in my mind. I see all the things that I try to ignore when we are together. He left me. He left me! These words no longer stop the thoughts or the feelings, as they did when he first returned. The anger they bought when I first started thinking them, has fizzeled to nothing, and the thought of those three simple words no longer bring relief from his company.
Theres a knock on my door. He enters. He crouches down next to me as I sit up, speaking urgently, his face close to mine. I can feel his breath on my cheek as he speaks, he he places on hand behind me on the bed. Our bodies are close, too close.
He left me.
Oh, who am I kidding.
I love him.