The logic of leaving

You're asleep when I wake
and slip out of bed.
I put my clothes on in stillness,
hear the small birds cause
a cheerful stir in the morning.

You're asleep when I wake,
and the air has the scent
of fresh linen. I want to kiss you
but I can't, still bothered
by what's between us.

These rooms and these objects
we have seen and touched –
the soft toothbrushes,
an oval mirror facing a door,
towels to wrap our bodies with –

will be deliberately left behind
or marred for life, one by one.
I am glad it happens so quietly.
To make it easier I will leave
with a smile and the tap running.