I wake up in the middle of the night and reach for him. My hand feels only cold sheets. Wide awake now, I call his name and hope for a response. There is none. I call his name again. Silence. “Baby?” I say as I listen closely (and hope) for the sound of familiar footsteps. “Baby, where are you?” Maybe, I think, he’s in the living room, unable to sleep, getting a drink of water, playing some silly game on the internet or Call of Duty on his PS3 (I knew that was a bad gift!). But if he was, he would have filled the empty space next to me when I first uttered his name. He knows waking up without him next to me makes me anxious and seeing him calms me down. But tonight the room remains empty. I must harshly remind myself that it has been many months since he lay next to me, pulled me close and enveloped my entire being in a warm hug. A little harder it is to remember that that will never again be.
I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes,
My room is devoid of his presence.
I call his name and hope for a response
But my words are met with silence.
Once again my lips move
And the sounds made somehow echo his name
And, again, just as before,
My heart has spoken in vain.
“Baby?” I say and hope to hear
The sound of familiar footsteps.
“Baby, where are you?” I enquire, halfhearted,
As I feel the emptiness to my left.
Maybe, I think, he’s in the other room,
Maybe he couldn’t fall asleep,
Maybe he’s just getting some water,
Maybe this is just a dream.
But, really, I know if he was here
He would have been by my side
The moment I first uttered his name
(He knows it would have me pacified).
Of the grim reality I remind myself:
He is no longer with me,
It has been eons since we held each other
And never again will it be.