my hand trails the surface
of the empty spot in my bed,
aching for your chest to be beneath my touch.
my fingers clench the sheet,
making it crumple the same way your t-shirt would.
my hand floats to the pillow <your cheek>
not letting my fingertips escape the flow of movement
up the bed <your collarbone, your neck>
my thumb grazes the corner of the pillow
and i cant help but mistake it for your jaw.
gently caressing the lump of manufactured cotton,
i can see you looking down at me with those sleepy eyes
which i do so adore.
my leg finds its way around my body pillow <your leg>
and they <we>  are entangled.
imitating warmth and comfort
and making up for the what-could-have-beens,
my bedside knows only the truth of my loneliness.
christmas lights gleaming at the sight of my yearning
like smiles from sad stars.
the clock on my nightstand ticks and tocks,
reminding me of missed opportunities and wasted time.
the ceiling fan wizzes away each sigh of desperation.