Exquisite Pain

At five in the morning, it came to her that she is experiencing exquisite pain. Wrapped snuggly in his arms, the little spoon to his larger, outer spoon, she knows that he will soon leave the bed, and she won’t see him again for four days.

It is an exquisite pain to love someone and to be loved in return only to know that you aren’t each other’s fully yet.

She is in a better situation than others she’s heard of, those who never share a bed until they marry, those who never know the joy of waking up beside each other on a Sunday morning.

But it is still a biting, true pain. She sleeps better with him in the bed.  She works better during the day when she knows he’ll be there.

It is an exquisite pain to have to give him up each week, and she knows she’s not the only woman to have ever felt this way.  She has joined a sorority of women with aching hearts.

~ by writergirlsk on December 11, 2007.