And what I miss the most? Rolling in bed, a minute after another, thinking and imagining about the day that left and the yet to come.
About a love that occurred or nearly did.
I miss the never ending fantasy of a love that yet to happen.
Thoughts on the will to be and to do and what keeps them from happening.
All of those have been replaced by a quick fall into the never ending tiredness and the dreamless sleep that defies them all.