you will soon come to find that the other side of the bed,
the place where he once slept,
is no longer occupied, and you don't know what to do
with all of the extra space.
You toss and turn at night and mumble "I'm sorry,"
before realizing there is no one there for you to roll into.
The blanket you once shared now feels constricting,
as it wraps around you and reminds you too much like the feeling of his arms.
She didn't think it would feel like this, being on her own.
Now it sucks sleeping alone.
YOU ARE READING
This Book is Probably About You.
PoetryHis eyes are the perfect poem, i'll spend forever trying to write. On an endless search for adjectives, to capture them just right. I could try to write their meaning, but I think you'd fail to understand. 'Cause nothing quite that beautiful could b...
