My hands keep trying to grab
The empty space where you
Used to lay.
They spread over the cold bedsheet
Like spindles and needles
Searching for the missing fabric of your clothes.
And I wonder to myself
If you were ever real at all.
Because the more I try
To remember what you look like
The only thing I see
Is the door
That you left wide open
Behind you.
YOU ARE READING
Aftertaste
PoetryI loved you and then I lost you... A compilation of poems about love, loss, heartbreak, and not being able to find the person you used to be.
