Day 2: Will I ever be the same?

It's 9am. I type this as my former sleeps in my bed.

He breathes heavily and softly all at once, almost sounding like a soft motor in a car. It seems effortless. You'd almost forget he's hurting. I stare at his face, studying the lines and definitions, that even in the darkness of the room I can still make out from the splashing sunshine thru the door cracks. I want to touch him and be touched by him. When I graze his face lightly with the back of my hand he purrs softly but does not wake. You'd almost forget that he his hurting. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget what he looks like so peaceful so I look harder at his closed eyes, his soft lips and beautiful skin. I want to feel him kiss me. Kiss my feet and place those tiny, quick kisses all over my body again...but somehow I am not sure I deserve that ever again. 

He came over because I texted him that I just needed someone. I didn't want to be alone. Not tonight. Not again. And without words he came. I almost thought I was dreaming when he walked thru the door. Surely I did not deserve his kindness. But we talked and still...he was angry. And rightfully so. He said that for now he would be my friend and nothing more.

This is more than I could ask for. He is concerned with my sleeping. This is Day 2 without him, but Day 4 for me with no real sleep. I get 20 minutes here and there but my mind is too busy and my heart is too heavy for slumber to overcome me. He tries everything to help me fall asleep, even holding me close to him; an opportunity I selfishly take to inhale his intoxicating scent. But tonight I do not smell his cologne. I just smell him, it is a bit sweet with his sweat and own body scent. This is the first time I have smelled him and I like this better than the cologne.

I crawled out of bed while he fell asleep. He had a bad dream and called out my name, my actual name not "Mistress" and I awoke him to make sure he was okay. I am assuming it was a bad dream because surely he cannot think well of me...even in his dreams.

After he fell quickly back to sleep I came my addiction. Writing. Typing. It soothes me when nothing else will do. I go by Mistress L. I use to tell people the "L" stood for Lovely. But now I think it stands for something else: Loser, Lame, Liar, Lost... I am not myself. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep. All I do is think and the thoughts are ever consuming. He says that we will just have to see what happens, that good things happen to good people.

But what happens to good people who do bad things? Are they granted deliverance? Or are they eternally scarred, never fully to recover from their shame?