I keep thinking you're lying in the adjoining bed.
That you're sprawled out, tangled in blankets, your hair a wild mess.
I have the desperate urge to crawl over towards you.
To stroke your errant curls from your forehead and kiss your face.
Whisper your name in your ear until you wake up.
To place my head on your chest and listen to your funny little heart, beating just a bit too quickly.
Your eyes would open and you'd be frustrated at it.
But you would hear your funny little heart and know I was there and we'd be okay.