Thursday, 2 January 2014

He Is Gone

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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