empty sheets

i do not want to sleep
for i will wake up alone, 
the light of a winter morning
streams through my window, 
the stillness of silence
of an empty home
where you should be. 

the snow falls, 
each flake unique, 
each dusting of white
softening upon my brow
as water
trickles down my cheeks. 

i do not want to sleep
with empty sheets
beside me, 
their softness
feels more like edges
of a bleak and pale unknown, 
crumpled space
where our bodies
once were. 

and now, 
as i lay dreaming, 
curls laying upon the coldness
of my pillow, 
my hands extend
to the empty
beside me. 

where are you? 
where have you gone? 
i miss you
like never before. 

i'm here, 
waiting for you, my dear. 
waiting to be held and to hold.