My bed is warm with the windows open,
the wind gently letting itself in.
The moon dissipates the shadows
and gleams an honest light on the few cars driving.
The air is brisk and every inhale is fresh,
crisp
and satisfying.

But my bed is cold
for its second occupant
is nowhere to be found.

My eyes search
My ears listen
and heart yearns,
as my breath is held
and my head is still.

Waiting for the door to be unlocked.
Waiting for the stairs to be used.
Waiting for the light under the door.