In the middle of the night

In the middle of the night, when you are lying next to me, perhaps you have drifted off to sleep or perhaps you blink once or twice and stare straight back at me when you will question what I see because you can see that I can see. Something. I can not tell you. Something. About. Morality, mortality and me. I can see. Me, myself and I. I can see. Me, where I perceive myself and where I truly want to be. I can see all the people that have proclaimed to love and later left me. I can see. Who is left and leaving. Yes. I can see. All the people that have failed me. In response, simply, I respond: I don't want to be here, but I am happy that I am here with you. If I have to be here. I want to be here with you. If I could leave here, if I could be where I wanted to be, I would not leave you here, I would take you with me. I would want to be with you. I would want you to be with me.