Divided

In the hazy moments of not-quite-sleep I can feel you there behind me.

The breath of the fan becomes yours, warm on the sleep damp curls at the base of my neck and the weight of the blanket becomes your arm draped across my chest.

In the world of near-dreams I know that the slightest movement would find you there with me, my back to your chest, flank to flank all the length of our bodies. You would pull me closer, touching your lips to the spot just behind my ear where the perfume of satisfaction mingles with the scent of dreams to spin it's magic of one more minute.

But one more minute comes and goes and I know the distance between us is far too great to be crossed by hope and so I roll face to the wall, alone.