it is in the morning moments that i miss you most.
when i roll over to find that you are not there,
when i stretch, and my arms do not come to a stop
at your smooth and untarnished back.
it is when i find myself reaching out:
only to lose my fingers in twisted blankets
and cold-sided pillows,
that i wish for you – that i comprehend most
how long it has been
since we have shared this morning light together.
it is when i slip out from under the covers –
cold feet – no need to leave a note,
(a simple reminder that i am still here),
that i most vividly remember that you are not.
when alarms send echoes through empty rooms,
and the breeze from the window reaches me before you,
i am reminded most incredibly of how chilled my mornings have become;
how weightless this bed becomes without someone to whom i can speak my dreams.
Shannon Curley is a senior at High Point University in North Carolina. She is majoring in English Literature and minoring in Women’s and Gender Studies and Creative Writing. She will be attending graduate school with a focus in Southern American Literature in Fall 2015.