By Stephanie Ervin

After a while you’ll only miss the
little things; having someone to
change your windshield wiper
blades or fix the remote when
you press the wrong button

Then some winter night
you’ll crawl into bed and
feel the frigidity of your feet

And you’ll want to move
your legs to what was
once his side of the bed,
remembering
how you used to press your
toes against the bottoms
of his warm feet

Then you’ll remember how he
used to wrap his arms around
you, settle your head into his chest

And you would gently touch the
smooth skin on the small of his
back, then wrap an arm around him

But there would always be
that moment in the night
when it would get too hot

And you would break away
in an instant, turning your back
toward him, moving to the
other side of the bed

Then you remember all of the
reasons you broke away, and
how you got used to sleeping
without his arms around you

And then you’ll pull on a pair
of socks and curl into bed,
still much happier alone