Mornings

Mornings are hard. Lying next to you while you sleep, waiting for the alarm or the child to shatter the calm. I can't touch you, though I wish I could. I just lay here and feel your presence beside me. I used to touch your knee or elbow, anything close to me for a moment of connection. I've stopped, it hurts each time you pull away like you touched a hot stove, but this morning your thigh was pressed against my knee. I held it there, not breathing for fear I would break the spell, then finally I pulled away slowly, gently. 

I'm getting stronger I think. But some moments I know it's not enough yet.