I don't want to go to bed, because I fear you will not be there. That "skinny" pillow you once rested your head upon does not suffice. Sure, I can pretend that the soft, plump corner is your shoulder, but will it lift up and down? How can I sleep knowing that you are not breathing next to me?
Up and down, up and down your soft, "hairy" chest would beat. Your eyelids looked so calm as the fan air brushed your bangs away. Incomparible to the rest of your body, your legs refused to lay still, "RLS" you claimed as your disorder. My head nuzzled upon the divot between your shoulder and your chest, with my hand upon your stomach, tempted to tickle you knowing I would hear that giggle and a "stop" with a big grin. The sheet between the wind from my mouth upon your skin was too much of a separation you called for; my leg wrapped around yours, my foot resting upon your "bony shin".
If I adjusted to the other side of the bed, you would nuzzle your mouth upon the back of my shoulder; you would reach between the distance with great grip, gasp, and sigh of relief; your hands were around something "safe," you once said.
So what do I do now when I toss and turn, trying either direction for your skin and naturally "radiating body heat"? Do I keep searching for something I will not find? Or will you grace me with your likes to "cuddle"?
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