life

I
wake up
crying
most days.
Okay,
all of them.
I
stick
my face
in your closet
for
the smell of you
lingers
there.
Your desk
is the same.
Your side
of the table.
And I sleep
on the couch.
I can’t sleep
in our bed
yet.
It’s too cod
without you.
I sleep
in your shirt,
wrapped
in your
bathrobe,
hoping
to never
wake
up.

This entry was posted in Death, grief, love, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s