The final whispers of the night spoke words of longing to the dawn of the new light. She was gone afore her final breath left before a hazy sleep. Waking up to another headache, another empty bed. She could amount to a bottle, a bad dream, purely a flutter a chemical stream. Less than a daydream a day filled with dreams.
Lazy echos fill out the room, a lost conversation a sick rhyme in bloom. Your voice makes ripples, the air holds its breath. Nothing can break the silence the capture of you that left.
Adjusting my body, pillows encase, the would be place your body once laced. Warmth emanates from the the sheets around me, a silhouette once held the boundary. With a single thought, less than a dream, she was gone never again seen