Touch of Love

The Bed

The bed is where she would lay.
The memories; crying, laughing.
That's all but a figment of my imagination now.
How do you move on from someone that's always been there.
You think about asking them to come back- even if its for a day.
You don't care. you don't think about all the hurt and pain they've caused you.
You thing about the good times. The times where you've laughed so hard that nothing comes out.
The times where you've sat around doing nothing.
You never had to do anything. Because you were at peace. Doing nothing together. It's what was calming.
But just as fast as the good times come to your mind; their clouded by the bad times.
How can love feel so good, yet be so painful at the same time.
How can someone be so willing to hold your heart in their hand.
Then they either set it on fire, crush it, or just let it go to splatter on the ground.
And along the way, after hurting your heart. they still mange to stomp on it some more.
You try. you try to forgive and forget. But the memories will always be there. But you ignore that feeling.
The feeling of regret of giving them a second chance. you think about how things can actually get better.
Just like they promised. How can your trust that? They've lied in the past.
You've let them walk all over you.
However, their still gone. But the indent from where they would sleep....makes it feel as if their still there.
The presence is calming. Yet it keeps you trapped. Strapped to the bed. The bed of lies.