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Click hereEMPTY BED
I turn my head, my face
Into my pillow.
The scent of her perfume
Still clings there,
As kd sings there,
As the echo of her laughter
Gently rings there.
But my bed is empty now,
And I must bow under
The weight of missing her.
And I must wait,
Perchance to hate
Her ever agonizing absence
From my heart.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,000 poems.
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is that it doesn't lead you around looking for an explanation to hang a comment on it goes right to the point
I'm excited that people like the poem. It was my virgin submission to the site, and it's encouraging to get positive feedback so quickly.
An easily related to subject
Described so well,
Finding the other person gone
And a great emptiness shares your bed...