Love Doesn't Exist

I allow myself to steal a moment of pretending he's beside me in my bed. Just lying there, not moving, but staring blindly into the darkness and trying to pinpoint the bare skin of my back. I imagine the warmth, his arms and his smell that I remember inhaling unintentionally when he hugged me once. And then I fade back into reality and try to sleep without him in my mind, in my thoughts and in my words.

"Up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness."