I run my thumb over the base of the fourth finger on my left hand
and imagine the heat of him in the space next to me.
I can feel the indentation of his head on the pillow beside me.
Then I open my eyes and stare ahead at the empty space.
I pause for a moment trying to remember where I am
I’ve been dreaming of him from the time I was a teenager
and the idea of having a person to belong to,
a soul that spoke to mine
became an intrinsic part of me.
A quarter of a century later, I know
fairy-tales are not true and
fables are for queens.
As I hear the sound of a flush going and
the rasp of the razor against his cheek in the bathroom
I know I can’t help myself.
I’m fifteen again,
and still wondering if my soulmate
is walking towards me
or has lost his way.