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.