XII.
Bloody inside, black and tempurpedic.
death swallowed her whole;
and her soul remained imprinted
on that dumb fucking mattress.
the one that she made me buy,
the one that I didn't want to try.
but now that she's gone, it's the
only way I can remember her body,
the way it curved and fit into mine.
incredible.
still awe struck
stuck in awe.
holy shit.
it hits me, everytime
my useless head hits that
pillow. the eighty dollar pillows
we just had to have.
because they matched.
but when there's just 1 pillow,
it's not longer a match.
it's lonely.
the night still sets,
and the sun still rises.
but the day goes so much slower
without you to pass the time
with.
i guess things happen for a reason,
and eventually i'll throw out the mattress.
but; until then.
i guess i'm sleeping with my misery.
