I’m lying here succumbed by darkness
as you message “I miss you” for the hundredth time this week.
It’s become our natural state of being.
“Good morning” (I dreamt of you)
“What’s up?” (I wish you were here)
“How was your day?” (I need your hugs)
“Good night”
“I love you”
and oh yeah,
I          miss          you.

I’m here, passing the days by doing my thing
and you’re there, doing yours,
all the while with the other at the forefront of our thoughts,
dreaming of days we’ll begin and end each day
tangled together.

I don’t know why but
today has been particularly difficult to endure alone.
Unable to allow myself the solace of sleep,
a usual occurrence,
I fight the knot in my stomach as it forces tears to blur my vision.
I’m not sad, I’m not angry,
I’m not even hurting,
I’m just numb.
And that hurts even more than pain of daily life,
the pain of missing you.
I read the words of your desires, of days I’ll wake to forehead kisses
and we’ll shower together,
parting shortly to pursue other goals before
reuniting each evening,
finally falling asleep with my head on your chest
and arms tightly wound around each other
as I listen to the thump of my favorite song:
your heartbeat.

Briefly, the wall of numbness collapses
under that wave of yearning,
and the bed yet again becomes entirely too vast
and too desolate
for my frigid bones and weary mind.

God ****** I need you here.