​I’ve never shared a piece before. Go easy, I’m not great.

Sitting here, staring at the pillow with a crease left from your head makes me feel sick. Curled up in a ball trying to touch my skin the way you did simply just to feel again. it never works. The echos from tears in this empty room, in this empty bed. You’re gone but I’m still here. Staring at this pillow. Wiping my eyes enough so that maybe you’ll just magically appear. I feel empty inside. Where are you? You’re not here. Knees to chest, under these covers where you once held me, trying to feel you. But you’re not here. I can’t smell you but I don’t know if it’s from crying too much or are you finally fading away. I used to love this bed, laying in it now after you’ve tainted it with your warm skin and the ghosts of sharing secretes and silly laughs, feels like a sin. I shouldn’t be here. Where are you? I miss you. I can’t sleep in here. I hate being alone but yet I always end up here. Alone. Knees to chest, pillowcase wet, staring at this dent you left. Where are you? You’re not here.