A nosegay lays forlorn,
Cast down on the windowsill.
And the echo of your footsteps
Can be heard on my stairway still.

The smell of your hair will surround me,
As I turn to your pillow tonight.
But the warmth of your breath will have left me,
As I reach up and turn out the light.

Two AM and I reach for your shoulder—
Roll back as I feel nothing there.
I bury my face in your pillow,
And breathe out the smell of your hair.

Category: Poetry, Relationships

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