I miss her most at night. Lying in the dark, reaching for the warmth that isn't there. The pillow doesn't hold me the way she does, and the silence is cruel without her voice. Sleep never comes easy when she's the dream I'm chasing, the ache I can't soothe, the piece of me that feels missing. Even in the stillness, she's everywhere and still not close enough. The night drags on, and count the hours until the morning light, hoping it pulls me closer to her.