both frightening and comforting

I lay next to him in the bed, acutely aware of his not touching me. The muted light casting intangible shadows us upon the wall reinforced how insubstantial this all can be.

This dark little feeling inside me feels very familiar. I know I can't expect constant attention, but ever since that friday, the magic seems to have gone. There doesn't seem to be a spark from him, like a dying fire, sputtering as the logs crumble and cave in.

There's a darkness about him that's both frightening and comforting....familiar. And I think, maybe it's me. Am I lost, am I removing myself emotionally?

I just know it aches sometimes. I crave his arms around me.