Even though I am away and he's got someone else to hold him at night, I wish I could've stayed stronger in his heart and not have landed somewhere in just the middle part of his pants.  I'm awash with memories and the little regrets -- the wee wishes I made under the covers in the dark where last I danced my fingers over him.  I swore that last time wouldn't be the last time.  I swore that I would get back somehow, but I couldn't.  I sigh out that last trinkle of a tear and smear it on my sleeve.  I don't want to, but, again, I smell his body, hear his breath, feel him turn over, and see him all wrapped up in a blanket with his dark curls running over the pillow.  I liked how his voice sounded, too, deep yet shallow, like vanilla dusted with sugar.  I look back at him now and my fingers warm over the keyboard like they did when I held him at that secret part of him he likes to have held best.  I dreamt him with another woman.  I feel her there now and can't hide her out of my view.  I think I only got too close to this man's heart to sense that I'm not the woman for him. In my dream he held up a little girl to me.  She had long brown hair like mine and big bright brown eyes but she was not my little girl.  The little girl laughed like music -- like ringing -- she was singing her joy to me and running all around like little girls do when exploring.  He caught her in his arms and held her up to me.  "This is my daughter," he said and this warmth spread over me that could not equal the joy I once felt when I held him.  I actually see him far happier than he ever was with me.  See?  There was the difference...  I had held him.  He didn't hold me.  Some women are only meant to be the dent in the pillow, other women become the mothers, the wives, the ones who make you breakfast as well as they made love to you last night. And there are just some lovers who aren't meant to be mine.  Not even in my dreams.  And I wonder when will be my time?  When will someone love me enough to make me their wife?  Will I ever know what it's like to be more than just a dent in his pillow?

~V