Monday, June 6, 2011

And it happens sometime around midnight.

The overwhelming silence enters the room. Lights may be on, but mostly just the moonlight dances across the floor. When the door shuts every ounce of hope leaves with the ventilated air. The room feels stifling yet large in it's own right. Cross the floor the bed is not made and the single impression still remains. The single spot where the sheets crinkle, where the comforter has been moved around. The only heat generated comes from a faithful dog-- the only ally in this spot. A deep sigh comes with shutting off the final light. Getting into bed feels heavy and precise. Never sliding over into the middle, the same empty side remains untouched and waiting for its usual occupant. That same empty side silences any pleasant dream and waking up to it each morning only serves as a reminder for what should be there...

1 comment:

  1. The scent of flowers does not travel against the wind, nor that of sandalwood, or of Tagara and Mallika flowers; but the odor of good people travels even against the wind; a good woman pervades every place.