I am alone.
At night a swim in an ocean of blankets, trying to find peace amongst the miles of empty bed. I curl up into a ball, fetal position; my flesh the only warmth to be found. I stretch out, flexing my muscles, pointing my toes, filling all corners of our huge mattress. I hold tight to one of the many pillows, it is my only companion. But I am a fickle bedmate and soon can’t stand holding anything. Angry, I throw the pillow across the room. I thrash and kick my legs like a child throwing a fit. I hold perfectly still, eyes open staring into nothing.
And then I imagine you.
I imagine your eyes, perfect amber eyes that sparkle when you laugh. I imagine the way they look through me and understand, with only one glance everything that I am feeling. I imagine your strong body. Muscles that ripple over bones, curving to form the body I know so well. I imagine my head on your chest as we cuddle in bed on the weekend, sipping tea and planning our Saturday in hushed voices. I imagine your smell, your perfect smell that blends cedar and Old Spice and the slight smell of sweat. I imagine your body next to mine. Heat radiates from you as we lay quietly, my ever cold feet eventually finding your legs to keep me warm. I imagine you and I, together in an embrace that means more than words, more than anything I knew before I found you.
I imagine you as I hold perfectly still in our giant, empty bed, knowing that I am alone but still imagining that somehow you are there with me.
I am not alone. I am with you.