The cold, smooth plastic of the switch under my finger tips
Then the deep, droning hum of the ceiling fan
I don't turn it on to cool me down from the wretched summer sun
But to replace the silence that you left in my life
The happiness and contentment that you stole
Cause now I sleep alone, the warmth gone from beside me
The warmth that is replaced with the coolness of the ceiling fan
I'm not sure where this came from, it just hit me. Maybe I'm missing someone.