3:05 a.m.

by

Candi Timmerman

I roll over and put my hand where you should be but aren’t. I couldn’t sleep before you left me, but now? Now sleep avoids me all together.
My life as an insomniac. It’s rather disturbing really that the only time I can really sleep is in the sunlight. Why am I like this now? Is it your absence? I remember when I use to sleep half on your satin sheets, half on you. My head always fit perfectly on the crook of your shoulder and my leg was molded exactly to fit between yours, my hand rested on your chest and my breath would sometimes rustle your hair. Our hearts would beat together sometimes, I could feel it_and sometimes they wouldn’t
Sometimes you just watched me sleep.
I was only sixteen. A child and all of these beautiful emotions I was so unprepared for.
How could a child have been so sexual? So ultimately needy of the one thing she will never find?
Comfort.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS
by: Paul Curtis
from: Woking, England, UK

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