I haven’t gotten a good nights sleep since you left. It’s only been 2 weeks since you left but it feels like an eternity. At night I lay awake, thinking of you. Entertaining the thought of you. My favorite thought to have. But it keeps me awake, the thought of you. The thought of what could’ve been. The thought of what never will be. It keeps me awake and taunts me. Until it finally clouds my brain and allows me to slip into a dream. It relieves my pain by allowing me to live in a world of fantasy. A world with you in it. But it doesn’t last. The dream always has to end. The harsh morning always comes. I stay under the covers, clinging onto what’s left of you. But the sunlight breaks through, and I am left alone once again. 

I slept in your best last night. I couldn’t stay away. It’s the most real thing that’s left of you. Your scent tangled in between the sheets. The impression of where your body once lay in many months gone by. I too, laid there. I laid in your shadow. I felt the remnants of you in the worn place where you spent your nights. I felt the warmth of your blankets wrap around me. Your warmth. I buried my face in your pillow, inhaling the last aroma I could catch of you. Your own perfume. I drifted off in the very same spot you had done so for the last time just 2 weeks prior. But sleep did not come. I thought it would come easier, being in that place. Being that close to you. But it did not. If anything, it made it worse. The fragments of you fighting away any idea of serenity. Your vestige holding me hostage. I was wrong. I thought being this close to you would bring peace. Instead, it prolonged my sleep. It replaced my rest with tears. But for once, I was glad. Glad to lie awake. Glad to count the hours as they flew past into the early morning. Because even though sleep escaped me, you were there. I felt your presence. Comforting me. Surrounding me. And with your shelter around me, sleep was not needed. I was content being awake, because it was with you. Content, even if for the last time.