Middle of night, absolute silence.  Here I feel the absence, the chill in the bed beside me, seek to chase it away.  Fingers graze and slide, thighs part.  Lips part, heartbeat takes over in the emptiness.  Naked flesh, warm and soft, silken sheets a ghostly substitute.

This I know how to do; how to swirl and press, dip and thrust.  How to erase the craving, temporarily; how to fuck away the ache to see, touch, hear, taste.  My desperate learned skill, necessary to hold onto sanity.

It won’t last, but maybe it will linger enough.  And I’ll sleep.  For once.