Every morning, before I drag myself out of bed, I look at my phone.
I wait for the dings, the chimes, the sign that you are alive.
If I had a dime for every time I looked at the blank screen on my phone, my pockets would hang with heavy regrets and sagging despair.
The creaking sound that my bed makes when I shift around waiting, rings out like a notification.
I perk up in hopes that you left me a note.
But nothing, no hope, no motivation. No ring.
The picture of us as my background shines as bright and clear as the hallway light in which we shared our first kiss.
The only way I can drag myself out of this empty bed is if I hear that ring. I just need one ring.
One ring to know you are up, waiting for me, wanting me, that is all I need.
You are my heart. My life. My motivation. My ding.