Silk sheets,
Cold against the pattern of her skin
Every limb helplessly,
Holding onto hope.
The weight,
Of the other half of the bed
Sinking in
Pressing in,
With the presence
Holding her breath,
Toes curling, insides tingling
Hair blowing,
Like shattered faith.
Its winter time,
The breeze taste close to euphoria.
Lingerie made of lace,
Goose bumps,
That caresses her body.
California King Bed,
Sitting lonesome,
In the shadow of the snow.
Her stare is steady,
she won’t, can’t move.
The warmth of their bodies,
Meeting, sparks fly.
Tight eyes,
Opening, with lingering pieces of hope.
Sitting up,
To turn slightly,
Covering her quivering lips.
The right half of the bed.
Empty,
Her body is cold.