She sits
upon the flowing crest
of a dream,
Hair gently blowing
as she watches reality
wash away upstream.
Replaced by swaying
mists of sleep,
duvet sheets
of blissful retreat.
Her eyelids sink,
like being awake
is a titanic ask,
a humongous task.
She basks
in the warming arms
of a freshly made bed,
but she can't ignore
the thoughts that invade her head,
the memory foam imprint
that lingers in her brain,
deep into these lonely hours
long after midnight has been and gone.
Moonlight sprinkling
dust upon the dresser
where his photograph once sat,
now gone,
a faded memory of a song,
the music right
but the lyrics all wrong.
The smell on his old sweater,
that she still grips tightly to smell
the essence of love drifting away.
The musky scent
still bouquets the throw over
on which they used to lay.
The arms in which she curled up tight,
the stray hair that she used to tease,
the stories he would tell at night
to put her anxious mind at ease.
Now the throw over is frayed,
the duvet doesn't fit the same way,
the heat doesn't warm like it did,
mind is boiling away
with no stories to use as a lid.
No chance of sleep.
Mattress lumps dig in deep,
no arms to pull her closer.
Hold her tight
by the waist,
keep her warm
like bread in a toaster.
No taste of a kiss tingling lips,
no sweet goodnights,
just this void
somewhere in space
where light
doesn’t kiss her face.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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