In between dreaming and the harsh awareness of reality,
my hand found the place where you used to lay,
brushing against the perfectly unmoved sheets,
making its way to the perfectly
untouched pillow.

Eyes opened, gazing, sinking as reality set in.
You weren’t just up early,
walking the dog,
making us coffee,
…
waiting to wake me with a kiss to the forehead.

My knuckles turned as white as the sheets
as they clenched the place that once was you,
holding onto whatever they could of your memory,
believing if I squeezed hard enough,
I could get the last drop of you out—

just for this morning.