Every night I lie awake caressing the empty air as if it is the palm of your hand or the soft skin of your forehead wrinkled by a sleeping smile. It always takes me a minute to return to my senses, to realize that I'm holding nothing but air, and I let my hands fall to my face to press the tears back into my eyes. The waves of missing you are so strong I wonder how they don't disturb the air around your bed each night, too.
What music brings sleep to you, your crutch and cradle, away from the tide of thoughts that keep me up this way?