As I crawl into bed I’m alone. I search for the warmth of your skin but I find only the cold crispness of the sheets. I toss and I turn trying to get comfortable without you to hold. I pull the pillows tighter to my body in hopes of forgetting the emptiness of the bed. Nothing makes up for the lack of comfort now. My eyes weigh heavy as I try to sleep. Yet they stay open while my mind searches for answers. A battle of exhaustion and confusion constantly waging war in this cold bed of mine. I hate this bed. I hate that I can still smell you as I lay. I hate that I can see the diminishing outline of where you slept. I hate that in this bed we grew closer. I hate that this bed is where I remember you last.

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