i miss you most in the morning, when your side of the bed is empty, my hand reaching, expecting, feeling nothing. i roll over, the sun bright, rude in my eyes, i am sad, disappointed, i can’t love and be loved on this lazy morning. i grab your pillow, squeeze it against me, a poor substitute of you, i curl up around it, press my face into its softness, savoring your scent, the smell reminding me, wishing it was you.