Hidden between the pillows are the memories that unfold,
And then our stories that have never been told,
Though I reach out, I cannot find you buried inside,
As the gentle damp covers my face, my body sinks ever deeper,
I weep for you and for our stories, the stories that have never been told,
Now that I’ve been left, the pillow cold.
Between the Pillows
Published inMain
“Though I reach out, I cannot find you buried inside”
wow i love this line though the whole poem holds beauty. 🙂
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