half sleep

I am up writing when I wish to remain in bed. But my desire is to write this before the feeling fades and I am awake for the day.

The alarm takes me by surprise. It rarely does, but today is different. I am awake for only a few moments and then return to my dreams. I must have not been completely asleep as I sensed my surroundings had changed. There is something wrong. Something missing. I search for him with my right foot. To make a drowsy connection. To say I love you.

He is gone. Somewhere in my brain I know why, but my heart still breaks finding his space beside me empty. I roll over with my hands stretching out, searching. I bury my face into his pillow and move my body to find the warmth he has left behind. I can smell him, and I smile. I can feel his heat, his presence linger and fall back to sleep. Content.

I wake again, slightly, only this time with a kiss and a whisper. I love you. I bury myself further into bed, thinking I might find him. To hold him and let him know I feel the same way. I search for his chest, to lay my head upon it and get the wonderful rush of feelings, that all is right with my world.

It soon comes crashing in. Reality. I know that he is gone. Every part of my body becomes awake and tense. My mind searching for answers and my ears for sounds. I hear the SUV start and relax. Memories of half sleep are now flooding into my mind.

I can no longer stay in bed; although I wish it were so. He is gone and my bed is empty. His presence no longer lingers. I do not find what I want in this room.