Hollow walls

Surrounding what was once whole

Lazy Sundays filled

With what once was you

 

Did you know that time stands still

That memories do not fade

Every passing day I think

And think about leaving you

 

That my hands seem cold

Without the equality of your palm

That my eyes can no longer shed tears

Because they have dried

 

And I see your face

Within the crevices of the paint

That aligns with our bed

Now to remain only mine

 

And I stare at your embodied print

Upon the sheets

And place a hand to the coldness

And take in the emptiness

 

I wake and do not speak

I am patient waiting for you

Though I know you will not come

My heart will never let you go

 

So I stay, searching

Waiting for you

My love

My other half, that in which makes me whole

Poetry


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