Nights are the hardest

 Nights are the hardest.

When the world grows still and the bed feels too big,
I reach out, half-expecting to feel you there.

But the space is empty.
No steady breathing.
No warmth pressed against me.
Just silence.

Yet sometimes, I close my eyes and I swear I feel you—
a brush of warmth, the echo of paws in my dreams.

The empty bed beside me is not truly empty.
It holds memories. It holds love.
It holds the promise that one day,
I’ll wake to find you there again—
forever.