under my pillow

i’m awake and it’s late and i’m thinking of him
and wonder if morning has warmed has stirred has roused him
yet.
i slide myself under the covers, alone in this big bed, i sigh.
it’s missing you.
the warmth of his body, the smell of his kiss his arms around me his hands, fingers tangled in mine or circling in my hair or tracing across my skin in loving good mornings between dream and awake. his lips on my forehead. our start to our day.
this big bed feels bigger than i remember
even just last night
and all the nights before
without him here.
somehow i’m swimming in sheets and pillows, somehow i’m searching for him in it all. somehow i allow myself to drown in this dream, thinking that maybe he might just appear. but still, i’m helplessly alone sucking in nothing but thick, hollowed air,
choking on
the emptiness
of
this
big
bed.
don’t make me breathe.
i hang onto the thought that i’ll be with him soon and what’s now just a dream will be our real life and goodbye won’t be a word we’ll ever know again and we won’t countdown the hours or days, there’ll be no until-next-time.
i’ll be seeing you everyday, instead.
missing you is hard.

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