One. Last. Time.

She lay there on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, just up. She reached her hand out and let it rest in the empty space beside her. She could picture him there, sleeping so peacefully, his chest slowly rising and falling. His eyes would flutter, eyelashes skimming his cheeks as he dreamed. He'd look so peaceful, no tension in his face, no worry, anxiety.

She used to watch him sleep. It helped calm her thoughts. But now, all she was left with we're memories. She couldn't watch him sleep anymore. Nobody could ever be able to calm her the way he did. No one really took the time to see her like he did. No one had ever loved her like he had, and no one ever would again.

She closes her eyes, bringing her arms across her chest. She held herself tightly, desperately trying to mimic the way he used to hold her. But there was no way she could mirror the way his warm body wrapped around hers, the way his soft skin would brush against hers, the way his warm breath would fan over her cheek, the way his fingers would be intertwined with hers.

A tear rolled down her cheek, running onto her neck where it made a tiny pool. She wished she could look into those eyes one last time. If only she could hear him say her name, one last time. Oh, what she would give to feel his soft lips against hers, one. Last. Time.

But nothing could bring him back to her. So there she lay, staring at the ceiling, knowing that he now only existed in her memory.

xo