Blindsided.

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.