I lean over her, resting on my elbow as I stare into her sleeping face.
I brush a wisp of hair away from her eyes so that I can kiss them lightly
as she dreams softly and gently of I don't know what.
I think of all our moments, the good, the bad and the in between.
Her lips look inviting as she breathes the air of a princess in a fairyland.
It seems like hours as I stare and remember, those special minutes
that cause a soul to tremble or a heart to ache.
Her pillow is full of creases and folds where her  head has laid all night.
Morning peaks through the window and brings with it a bright morning sun
but it will do nothing for me, because I lay here watching, feeling, entranced by this woman. I am haunted by a very chilling fact. It is not a sudden break up or a jealous love story or even an angry word.
I realize as I always do on these spring mornings that the lady I stare at and love so deeply in my badly tangled bed is not really there....she is a mystery that comes to me each morning.
A mystery that reminds me I have no one, that the beauty I long for will never lie beside me.
How many more mornings will I spend on this tragic wasted  love.