The infiniteness of these sheets


This bed feels so lonely without you here. It’s infinite. Emptiness below these sheets. All over this body. I feel trapped when I cannot touch you. It feels like your absence is a punishment. Like I don’t truly deserve you. So when you are gone I miss you. Terribly. Like a drug. I need you in a way that will never make sense. But it is the only way I can seem to fit around this silly life of my own. With you. Sooner or later. With you. Near or far. With you. Always. Because without you I cease to be. The person I am today. Right or wrong. Flawed and perfect. To you I am. Here. Alone.

Note: Image by ~ejan.


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