Through my hazy state between awake and asleep, I feel
him climb in next to me. The heat from his body immediately comforts me, and I
snuggle closer. After the three hours I have spent restlessly fidgeting, I am
finally able to relax. His arm slightly lifts my top as it slides under my
back, his hand curling around my waist. I sigh in satisfaction. I love the
feeling of his skin on mine, and I wish that for once it could still be there
when morning arrives. Yet every time the sun inches high enough to cast bright
beams through my window, waking me up, he is gone.
The next day is no exception. An overwhelming brightness
flashes behind my closed eyelids and stirs me. I can feel that his body is no
longer entangled with mine, and opening my eyes confirms this. The empty space
on the sheets next to me engulfs any chance that I might not be alone again.
The next night when he climbs under the covers, I shift
my head so that it lies on his chest. I like to feel its gentle rise and fall
as he breathes. It lets me know that he is still there, that he hasn't left me
yet. He presses his lips softly against my forehead. The kiss lingers there
long after he draws away. As I slowly sink into a deep sleep, I feel his words
tickle in my ear, but I am far enough gone that I can’t quite catch what he
says.
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