In the dead of the night

In the dead of the night I wrap my arms around my body. I pretend they are yours and that your here telling me "everything will be OK," though my own grasp, no matter how tight, can not compare to the embrace that is yours that I knew so well. As my lone night, one without the feeling of your love, grows longer and darker my grasp on my ribs grows stronger and more constricting. There are but two reasons for this. The first being I hope that the more I dig my nails into my sides, the more my own breathing is restricted and the more blood that comes out from the skin beneath my fingers, that just maybe I can make it feel as If it was you holding me rather than myself purely by that thought I could never do such a thing to my own body. The second reason being that I fear I'm loosing you more and more each passing night. Because of this boiling fear I grip so tightly to the only thing I have left to remember you by, My own flesh and bones, my own body. The flesh and bones that once drowned in your gentle but frim and loving grasp. The very capsule of my exitance that I carry with me, or that carries me rather. Impossible to loose yet I still tremble at the thought I somehow will loose it and you'll be gone forever. You are the very reason im still here, because My life is the only way I'm not loosing you.