The Other Woman

Last night I laid in bed alone, using my imagination to recreate the feeling of my husband's body beside me. I conjured his touch from thin air, his smell, the weight of him on the other half of the mattress. I felt the heat of his body pressed up against mine, his arm slung over my side, cupping my breast. I felt it all in my mind. This is how I have to drift off to sleep more often than not these days. All because there's another woman in his life, another woman who gets first dibs on his time and affection, another woman who gets to feel his comforting warmth beside her. Some nights I want to cry for my loneliness; but then I get up in the morning and I give all of myself to her too.