They say time makes things easier but that simply isn't true,
I still can't fall asleep on my own without you.

I relate to Sylvia Plath often through many things she has said,
Especially "I think I made you up inside my head."

I dream mostly about kissing your lips or holding your hand,
As these thoughts bring more peace than toes in sand.

I could spend hours writing but there wouldn't be any point,
I'd still face the night alone, replacing you with a joint.

Being high makes the loneliness easier to bear,
But instead of gripping a lighter I'd rather it be your hair.

A puff of smoke drifts openly toward the moon,
While I close my eyes and hope to see you soon