Bed time used to be the best time.
With you.

Now, it’s the very worst part of my day.
You are not here.

I cannot kiss you, as the sign above requires.
I cannot smell your freshly showered scent.
I cannot caress that curve of your hip that races my heart.
I cannot run my fingers across your shoulder, down your arm, and into your hand.
I cannot wonder if we should, perhaps, stay up a bit longer.
I cannot tug, ever so gently, on your hair, to inquire.

I’m home, but not Home.
You are not here.

(Alas, I will dream of you.  
Oh heaven yes, I will dream of you.
Beautiful dreams.
And,
I will rise in the morning.
I will resume the chase
Back to bed times with you.)