I awake.
Sounds drifting into my sleepy world
as I open my blue-gray eyes to peer
into the morning sunlight,
so sure you were there
when I fell asleep the night before.

But, alas, you are gone,
just like I knew you would be.
Oh, that you were here
to sleep beside me,
to dream while I watched you.
To know the color of your eyes
in certainty when you opened them.
To be familiar with
that early morning sigh of awakening.
To watch your muscles move
as you stretch away morning stiffness.

I open my eyes again in despair,
alone in a queen bed with only pillows
to hold and sheets to slide against my skin.
Your presence lingers here,
only do I see to cats blink up at me,
asking me in their silent way
as to why I am moving,
if it means I will get up.
I glance at the space where you would be
sighing longingly while placing my palm
where you would rest.

I rise and greet the world
with my usual curse,
closing my eyes against a spasm of loneliness
that awakens as well before I shove it back
to where my emotions remained locked up.
Back to that part of my mind
that thinks of you.
I make my way to my place of work,
talking of you to myself of imagined meetings,
kisses of passionate greetings,
your hands on my skin. . .

I return home to my empty abode,
quiet in its solitude,
loud in its loneliness.
I return to my bed where I have the freedom
to walk in dreams and perhaps
meet you there again. . .