Empty hands.

Cold sheets.

Broken heart.

What's the point in anything?

I no longer feel your skin under my fingertips.

My lips crave the softness of yours.

The house has never felt this empty;

not even when I first moved in.

I miss the sound of your voice filling the air;

the weight of your presence in my bed.

My body molds around your absence as I sleep, like a memory-foam shoe that's been worn too long.

And even though you're gone, I hold out hope for your return.

**_Mi amor.

_**Come home. I miss you.

_...please?_