Vultures

You wake up three mornings in a row alone. You try to remember everything about him. His eyes, his hair, his lips, his laugh. How he would grab you by the waist from behind and make you breakfast while you were still asleep on Sunday mornings. How he made you feel so damn special and in love, even when doing the simplest and stupidest things.

But your bed is unusually spacious, and your heart a little too empty. So you cuddle onto your pillow, dreaming of feeling the warmth of his body clutching your delicate skin in his arms, whispering into your ear all the cute little words you love and with the brightest of intentions.

Tonight will be another meaningless atom of time.