Mar 2018
There's poetry in simple things
And pain in far more
There's beauty in a million things
But one in particular
The yearn for security
The lack of it, and warmth
Tonight I lay here, only me
Tossing, turning, feeling torn
And pain in far more
There's beauty in a million things
But one in particular
The yearn for security
The lack of it, and warmth
Tonight I lay here, only me
Tossing, turning, feeling torn
How am I expected to sleep in our bed without her?
