I’m afraid to sleep on your side of the bed.

I miss the way you would put your legs on mine;

how I would pinch you all the time

because my daily lullaby was hearing your snoring.

My mind only carries forgetfulness and dread

because I fail to remember your angelic voice,

and how, if I ever lost you,

all I had to do was follow the annoying noise –

now it’s just silence.

I’m haunted by your laughter,

your scent on my pillow drowning me

in the nightmares of the days

when my life was less boring.

After you were gone,

I found the dresses you had “borrowed”

–stolen,

the perfume you had hidden,

and the sunglasses you had broken.

I promise I’m not angry;

I just need you to come back to me

so life can go back to what it used to be.

Lately, memories seem to catch me unexpectedly.

I find myself crying,

wishing to see you

and tell you the three words

I dared never to say to you:

“I love you”