gone.
Empty hands.
Cold sheets.
Broken heart.
What's the point in anything?
I no longer feel your skin under my fingertips.
My lips crave the softness of yours.
The house has never felt this empty;
not even when I first moved in.
I miss the sound of your voice filling the air;
the weight of your presence in my bed.
My body molds around your absence as I sleep, like a memory-foam shoe that's been worn too long.
And even though you're gone, I hold out hope for your return.
**_Mi amor.
_**Come home. I miss you.
_...please?_
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