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The Right Side of the Bed
You weren't gone yet; you promised not to leave.
You said you would be back, but even I knew
that those words were deceitful. Words that would
haunt me as the door slammed cold on my face.
Sitting; alone; I told myself you would be back,
that maybe you were just- just running an errand
or- or forgot something at work. I convinced
myself that you didn't leave me; that you
wouldn't leave me. I lay in bed listening to
the sounds that used to fill the room with sunshine.
Now there's nothing left but a soft lament,
that swallows the air and rings of your presence
although you no longer reside here. The scent of you
still remains in the clothing you've left behind.
Refusing to make your side of the bed in hopes
that I'll wake up the same way I did last month
when you were still here. The sun leaks through
the blinds; morning has come. I awake to the sound
of the water pressure turning on in the shower
and the hot steam slipping under the door.
You've come back to me- I knew you would.
Opening the bathroom door, I could see your
silhouette, but before I could clearly make out
that it was you, my eyes opened to find that
The right side of my bed was still empty.