The night was nothing to boast about.
Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps those words I said,
Whilst we were evading slumber had false origins.
I tried listening to your heart, like I used to,
But the traffic, the clock, the night itself, interfered.
I tried to reach out and touch you
Just to let you know that I was still here,
But my arms were numb, my hands struck dumb
By an unforgiving mind that drifted in and out of thought
Clicking casually with each unconnected memory.
I tried to make out your figure, but the dark hid it so well.
When I tried to picture you, your image would not be recalled
Leaving the impression that your side of the bed was empty,
Had always been empty and would always remain empty.
I wondered which emotion ruled the roost,
Wondered whether I was saddened or relieved,
Then tried to picture your feelings which for a while
Refused to exist.

Maybe that night, you too were awake with the same
Problematic thoughts. I didn't think to ask,
Couldn't bring myself to whisper your name.
Maybe you too felt midnight pass,
Then one and two until the mind, no longer clear,
Slightly sore, gave up, surrendered to an unforgiving sleep.

I wasn't too surprised to find you gone when the morning arose.
You left a few strands of hair, your fragrance,
The memory of a few treasured moments.
Your side of the bed remained warm,
Warm, but empty.
 
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