Waking

I wake up from another dream, tangled in bedsheets and your memory imprinted on my mind. In my head we were back two weeks, lying together in a dank blue and white room, your lips whispering just centimetres from mine. All I know is the warmth of your body and my slight shivering as this illness takes hold, the feel of your hair and how gentle your touch is on my back. And then suddenly, there's no distance between us and it feels like time has stretched to its limit and we're moving at the speed of light so perhaps the distance is infinite too and my brain won't shut down, shut up about the infinite possibilities of... us. But you're not here now. You're not looking after me and you're not calling me. You're not calling me yours.