It was raining the night that it happened, I remember that because looking back on it, it was almost like Nature herself was in pain with him. I spent the night at his house, and came downstairs from his bed and heard someone crying. I followed the sound to the kitchen, went in and turned on the light to find him there, sitting at the table with tears streaming down his face. He looked up at me and I immediately went over to him and held him close, wiping his tears away, smoothing his hair from his face. Neither one of us said a word. We didn’t need to, and couldn’t of even if we wanted to. There was too much pain in that room for words. Pain so intense if either one of us had opened our mouths, it would have ripped the words from our throats and killed them in cold blooded murder before they had a chance to live.
We sat there awhile, holding each other in the dim light, when suddenly he looked up, locked gazes with me, and  silently pleaded with me to understand when I started to cry tears of my own at what I saw in his eyes. He was going to his Mistress. He had almost left me for her once, had loved her in a way much more intense than he would ever love me. Everyday I worried that he would leave one day to return to her. That day was now. He was going to her, and I would never see him again.
“One more time, baby? One last time before I go?” he asked me, as if I had the choice to refuse him, for as hurt as I was, he was still my Immortal God, my Master. We walked silently to his bedroom, hand in hand, slow and solemn as a wedding march, as a funeral march. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him, kissing me roughly, as if his pain about his choice was on my lips and if he conquered it, if he made blood flow from my mouth like dying rose petals, then he could carry on here with me, even as we both knew he would never stay. When I was bleeding to his satisfaction, when both of us were tasting the metallic sweetness of it diluted by the salt of tears, he stripped me naked and laid me on his bed. He removed his own clothes and laid down on top of me, covering my body with his, allowing me to feel his every muscle, warm and hard through his velvety skin,  close in a way we had been many times before, yet never like this. Both of us were still crying as I kissed his lips, his throat, his chest, licking every inch of him, wanting to remember the exact flavor of his sweat, the way it tasted of fire and smoke and rain that had covered trees. I wanted to get lost in the taste, wanted to get lost in him. I wanted to go with him, and yet I couldn’t.
I felt him hesitate before he penetrated me, like he was waiting for permission. I wanted to reassure him that I understood tonight had no strings attached, and was simply goodbye in our passionate way.