Craving

There isn’t one day that goes by or one sleepless night that I don’t feel the craving. The want, no the need, for someone next to me. Someone to wake up next to, their arms wrapped around my waist and my head against the curve of their neck.

The feel of another person’s fingers entwined with my own as we walk, or a heartbeat to memorize through all of the times we are pressed against one another. I crave for the smell of coffee to wake me up and to hear light footsteps on the floorboards as I lie in bed.

I want to hear someone’s voice breathless in my ear as we make love, and breathless again the first time the words “I love you” fall out of their mouth, whispered confidently like nothing else in their entire life was as sure as the fact that they love me.

I crave the feeling that one gets by giving their heart and receiving a new one its place. I crave the comfort and security only another human being can provide. But most of all, I crave someone to share my life with for a life without someone next to me seems wasted.

I wake up in a bed that is cold on one side, the silence of the apartment deafening. I make myself breakfast and sit alone at a table with two chairs. The car seems too empty as I drive to work, and sometimes as I get ready for bed I realize I didn’t speak to anyone all day.