I heard a whisper in the night, so close it could have kissed my ear. But when I awoke to see who was calling, that echoed breath had disappeared.

I laid awake the better part of an hour, chasing the voice from my head. Because I knew that voice from years before, the voice of someone I thought long dead.

I rose from the nestled safety of my bed and walked over to the window pane. I knew if I were to open it for you, you just might leave me all the same.

I closed my eyes, still burning softly, and loosed a breath of mine. I felt it hang in the cold, night, air for a fraction of a moment's time.

A winter breeze came creeping in fetching chills to send through my core. And just when I thought that you had come and gone came the opening of my bedroom door.

It had slightly moved, arguably not at all, nudging urges of neurosis. But I still tasted you in mouth, a faint haunting of my psychosis.

Debating my sanity I queried out loud, "Are you back this time for good?" but nothing answered from the darkness of my room, just as nothing should.

So I closed my window, shook off the frost, and laid back down for sleep. But I couldn't help but feel a warmth already underneath my sheets.