Empty Side of the Bed

It seems like I’ve woken up on the empty side of the bed today.

That probably explains why I miss you the way I do.

Before you my twin size bed always seemed so small and full of me.

Now it’s 3,120 square inches of mattress, sheets, pillows, and quilts woven with threads that seem to release tiny bursts of loneliness enveloped in the scent of your cologne.

Yes, I must’ve woken up on the lonely side of the bed today.

Because the four pillows I use to substitute your presence have done nothing but mock me and taunt me since the day you stopped sleeping here and normally that wouldn’t bother me but today,

Today makes 2 days since I slept with your arms around me and 2 weeks since i’ve uttered the words i love you and 2 months since I’ve been single or independent as I like to tell myself,

And I’ve been hurting for too damn long to still be hurting this damn bad.

365 days ago I invested 18 years, two months, and 18 days of my savings in your stock when you were still on the market, seeking company from other companies.

My assets depreciated in value the day I opened my legs for business and incurred my first expense trying to earn your revenue.

365 days later I still find myself clinging to the empty promises and believing in the sweet nothing’s you whisper in my ears.

And I still cry every time you find a new way to break another piece of this thing in my chest that pumps blood through my veins up to my brain to remind me that I’m still breathing.

And every tear that falls leaves a new crack in my foundation and a crack in the foundation that I spent 18 years, 2 months and 18 days trying to build and 365 days trying to repair.

365 days ago I spent the night sharing 3,120 square inches with you and tomorrow I’ll probably wake up alone on the empty side of the bed.