Ever have a dream that feels so real you can taste it?
Where you spend your night convinced that you’re wrapped in his arms, and even check for the finger marks on your upper arm, so certain are you that he was there with you.
Where the imprint of his lips on yours and the sweet taste of him lingers on well into the early twilight of morning as you lie, half awake, half asleep, reluctantly emerging into the morning and the day ahead.
Where his smell fills your nostrils, and the warmth of his body against yours still remains, and you sigh deeply as you gradually become aware that it was nothing but the most wonderfully clear and vivid dream.
That was last night for me. No wonder I tossed and turned.