I wake from a deep sleep with bits of last nights turmoil still
sprinkled across my eyelashes.
The sun is creeping through the blinds
and I catch glimpses of the blue sky here and there, but it’s hazy
behind the heavy clouds.
I feel your voice echo through me, but I can
taste the distance on my tongue. My body stretches, my back arching,
releasing the tiny disturbances before I inch my hand towards the empty
spaces where your hand would be.
Not even the crave for warm coffee will
drag me out of bed. Instead, I lay still and wonder if maybe you too
are thinking of me. There is a slight ache that rings throughout my
limbs when I think: I haven’t crossed your mind.
None of us saw
the end coming, and I think I will skip the coffee this morning. I will
dig my face into the pillows and drown myself underneath the covers.
Happy thoughts swell and they only make me happy for a moment, because
soon the realization that they will no longer exist outside of memories
sets in.
This morning, I will lay in bed and search for the fleeting
image of you.
