Fantasy

I wore your tee shirt to sleep.

In the dark I closed my lids, and crawled to bed, pretending that you were already there waiting for me. You’ll wrapped your arms around for a cuddle, my head found a perfect resting spot on the side of your chest, and we’ll snuggled closer together removing any useless space – our silent yet smooth arrangement performed countless times.

Eyes still shut, I kept on imagining. Your sleeping face was just centimeters away, so I stretched my neck for a peck on your stubbly cheek. I couldn’t decide if you were roused by my movement or you could feel me staring and smiling, but you hugged me tighter and cupped my face and lean in for a magical kiss.

And that is when I know it is just a dream: I felt acute loneliness instead of lovely bliss.

I can almost feel the warmth of your palm and the heaviness of your body. I still vividly remember all the wonderful sensations you’d bestowed upon me and my skin is forever imprinted with your gentle touch. But my love it is a craving for your physical presence which aches so much that it serves as a cruel amplifier of what’s missing.

I can see that, you were mine and now you are my fantasy.

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