I can feel your pulse in the pages.

I’ve been feeling a little lonely recently. 

Loneliness is no stranger to me. It comes to visit from time to time, when the ghost of your body disappears from my sheets, when the heat from your skin dissipates into the air. It crawls into bed with me, traces the goosebumps along my skin, creeps and settles under the folds of my blanket. It is a coldness that seeps right into my veins. 

There are days where your absence is nothing but a passing thought. And there are moments, like this moment, where your absence is a weight that sits heavily on my chest. I wonder, where are you? Are you happy where you are? Do you think about me during the quiet moments of your days? Do you feel my absence late at night? Do these words reach out to you and find their way into your lap, do they fill the space between us like a bridge across the distance? 

I grow weary of missing you.