|
Not a night passes by when my hand reaches over to touch your pillow or your side of the bed which used to be the space that you filled up with love. Abandoned and alone I fight the memories of you. In the middle of the night hour by hour my bed grows colder. I wonder if you dream of me at all? Tossing and turning my nights seem endless. My body aches for your breath, for a moment of your warmth. I wonder if you ever have regrets? I do regret the moments lost to tell you what I loved about you most. I regret that last night when you packed. Should I have asked you to stay and I wonder if it would have mattered? Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
|
|
| |||||||||||||||||||
|