Wrapped in light sheets she held a pillow between her legs.
She was comforted imagining him close to her.
He wasn’t in the room. He wasn’t in the bed. He wasn’t anywhere.
She believed her loneliness and his absence was her own doing.
Patterns of unrest and sleepless nights visited her again.
Ghosts of love’s past were forefront in her thoughts.
Things were easier alone.
The willingness to own her mistakes, unskillful actions, self-pity, hurt, and resentment was one thing she offered.
Another was an open heart, full of love, living each day to the best of her ability, avoiding attempted assumptions.
She responded to her best level, still taxing over personal reactions to conversations gone awry. Desperate to remedy everything with open communication, she let herself stay silent.
She hugged her pillow tighter resisting the urge to pick up her phone and review all the pictures and texts, or remember how amazing the beginning was.
She created a mantra for herself:
“If I intersect with you in a meaningful way you need to offer a match to my best efforts.”
Wrapped in light sheets, she at last fell asleep, repeating her mantra. The pillow between her legs receiving her best efforts.
She wouldn’t always be alone, but she would be happy alone until the right pillow arrived.