Ebony and Irony

I sat in London, eating cereal from a shallow bowl while I stared at a blurry screen; outside, it rained.
It took me years to tell him I loved him, but only weeks to leave him.
From what I know, he's traveling the world.
Maybe he's looking for me; I'm not that hard to find.
I go to his shows, not that he knows it; I stand in the very middle of every crowd, absorbing his songs and letting the tears slide down my face as people dance and spin and mosh around me.
I still don't know what compelled me to leave; maybe it was his words, or the tension I felt.
Maybe it was the wave of snow that covered the city I didn't want to be in.
Maybe it was the fact that I knew that I couldn't have love, and that I would forever walk alone.
The images kept blurring on my television, and I sighed as I stood up to clean the bowl I finished with.
I thought back to the last night I was in New York, leaning against the door frame of my flat that was close to being drowned by London weather.

"I love you," he whispered as he bent down to kiss my neck; my arms were wrapped around his neck and my breath caught in my throat as he nibbled my collarbone.
"I love you, too," I whispered back, a happiness growing swiftly inside me from the truth of my words.
His eyes met mine as he raised his head again, and I grew quiet; the air sparked between us, and he leaned down slowly to kiss me again; it was like each kiss was our last.
Like each beginning of something beautiful was the end.
"Be mine," he told me in a murmur, both of our eyes shut.
"I am," I reassured him in a soft voice, pride blooming from every pore at that simple fact.
I peeled my lids open when he didn't reply; his eyes were probing my face curiously.
Something in his gaze shut off my tingling happiness and crumpled my smile.
I ran a finger down his cheek, trying to make him smile again, but he was having none of it.
"Be mine," he repeated with smoldering eyes and a tone to match; my heart began to race as I realized what he meant.
My palms grew slick and I couldn't force words from my tongue; the lump of worry in my throat caught everything up.
"Please," he breathed. "I love you."
He sounded so earnest, so loving and trusting.
I complied, and it was everything we needed.
I fell asleep in his arms later, warm and loved.

He woke up to an empty bed and a note.
I tapped my foot on the plane ride, listening to Casey Crescenzo while tears ran down my face.
I heard footsteps and turned, plastering a smile on my face as she peeked around the corner.
"Mummy," she whispered, and she ran up to me in her little bare feet, wrapping her arms around my legs as she cried with me.

How could I ever tell him?