Hide and Seek

When I awoke, you were not there.

I checked in my closet hoping you'd woven yourself in with the threads, but you were not.

I checked underneath my bed wondering if you were playing games with the demons that hid. But they were left to play their games by themselves.

I flipped through books, seeing if maybe your words had gotten trapped in them, but all that was left were blank pages.

I could have sworn I heard your laugh, loud and obnoxious, somewhere outside. But when I opened my window all I was met with was the taunting of the wind as it blew in, invading my every crevice.

I searched every branch on the trees outside, in my distress I imagined you perched on one watching to make sure no harm came to me during the night. But the branch was empty, except for the leaves that mocked me with the wind.

I slammed the window shut and pulled off my blanket and sheets, maybe you were actually there lying beside me, and in my panic I had misplaced you. But I did not see your warm smile; all I was met with was a cold, hard, mattress.

Through the window the sun shined brightly, dancing across my pale skin. But without your presence it felt like a cold bath drenching me from head to foot, so cold it took my breath away.

I searched but could not find you.

I was alone.

You were not coming back.