Am I Seriously Here?

In my mind, I wasn't supposed to be alone this weekend. Well especially not Friday or Saturday night. I was supposed to be wrapped up in my baby's arms, warmed by his chest, and falling asleep to his heartbeat at 3 in the morning. I was supposed to be hoppin' up at a lazy 11, completely energized from a fierce night of lovemaking and fryin' up some eggs and bacon for him to feast on because I wore him OUT!

I was supposed to be tugged back into bed at noon because he wasn't interested in me being out of his site or touch, and going for round two, three or four. Ringers off, sunlight shut out, and mixed up in emotions that only he and I could understand. I was supposed to be tasting the softness of his lips and sweetness of his neck, feeling the smooth of his skin and strength of his embrace, and knowing that where I was, was safe and loved. In my mind his thick black curls were supposed to be my playground and his lap my chair to rest upon for the afternoon.

I wasn't supposed to be alone, I wasn't supposed to be missing his touch, searching my memory for his face or smile, I wasn't supposed to be holding my pillow wishing that when I opened my eyes he'd be there and that all that ended us never was.