Your scent on the pillow, strings of your hair on my sheets.
Sleepless nights at my computer, writing words that I want no one but you to read.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this sober, the last time my thoughts have been this clear.
Talking to a friend tonight I told her that I won’t be complete until I have that wife, that spirit on the other side of the bed lying next to me.
She told me no woman can make you complete if you’re not.
The other side of the bed has been empty for far too long.
Women come and go, moments come and go but…
Consistency, the same touch, the same breath, the same lips.
That’s what the writer in me longs for.
That’s what the man in me longs for.
That’s what the emptiness in my quiet moments longs for.
Spilled syrup on your stomach while you eat on your side of the bed.
The sun spilling thru the blinds.
The moment just right because you’re just right.
Your side of the bed is waiting on you.
I’m waiting on you.