If only sleep would
come sooner,
so I can curl up  in
bed and pretend that you
still love me.
Your breath at my neck,
my body firm against yours,
you'd whisper how pretty I am,
and I'd mumble a protest,
too tired to try and
deny it further.
But then I open my eyes and
the place beside me
is empty.
You aren't here tonight,
and you aren't coming any other.
I'm lonely without you, but
you wouldn't care;
you know that I miss you, but
you still don't care.
I pull the blankets
tighter around me,
wishing it was you I was
falling asleep with, and not
a pile of pillows.