On nights alone

It's been days since I was able to feel my world return to normal speed. My mind has been hazy from lack of sleep. My body finally aches for the comfort of my bed. Finally, sleep is for the weary. I am the weary. I am the weary of many days, many sleepless night. I get to sleep.

However, with the lack of sleep, comes the weakening of mental walls. My chest begins to ache for the warmth of being loved. I used to curl up with her. I would feel her head tucked safely on the nook of my chest as her arm wrapped around my waist. She always felt so small, even more so when we are like this: My hand tangled in the hair on back of her head. Lips on top of her forehead and my nose resting just on her frontal, inhaling her scent in her hair. My favorite was her hand gently stroking the small of my back and just us breathing, existing at the same time in that very moment.

Now, all I feel is the ghost of being loved. A ghost that continues to haunt me on nights when I can't defend myself. Sometimes, I felt her arms wrap around me as I slept. It was such a good dream. There was peace, peace that I have long forgotten and have not found since she left. I still remember the way her fingers interlaced with mine and the kisses she planted on my back. You don't just forget about the way you were loved, especially when it was physically here and alive and incredibly overwhelming. You don't just forget, you can't.

Now I ache to have warm arms around me, light kisses planted on my forehead and have my body relax into someone else's. I want my fingers interlocking with someone else's. I want their scent on my pillow, my shirts, me. I want to wake up in their arms, to them planting kisses on my collarbone, them tracing the bridge of my nose gently with the tip of their finger. I want to be able to sigh in relief, in peace, in joy, not in pain.

I just don't want to be alone right now but I don't really have a choice in that.