a hand on a beach

I keep seeing him on my bed. Every time I walk into my room; he’s there, curled up on top of my floral bedspread, just like always. But unlike always, I don’t snap at him to get out and call him a baby. No. Instead I curl up right next to him and take his small body within my arms, hugging as hard as I dare.

And then I wake up, kiss his blonde locks and whisper that everything’s going to be okay. But as I climb out of bed and hold my hand out to him … He isn’t there. He’s never there.

Not anymore.