it was in the quiet moments before sleep that she found herself not wishing or dreaming of him beside her when she slept,
or them down the hall, dreaming of cotton candy and rocking horses.
she knew those goods would come in due time. it wasn't doubt, but hope that filled her.
it rushed over her newly washed sheets, and between her fresh shaven legs,
over her shower dampened hair and knee high bed socks.
she hoped for her soul's sake that she would never forget these silly moments of
she said the word aloud, savoring the curl in her tongue as it formed the letter "L", pursing her lips after "N", and the silent "E" that followed.
"silence," she thought, "relish in the silence."
she ran her fingertips along the trimming of the mattress, her palm gripping the thin white sheet.
she hoped to never forget the way it felt to sleep in a single bed,
or the freedom that came with keeping the light on until 2 a.m.
in these moments, in the dark, damp, silent night,
she discovered such beauty in being still, and perfectly alone.