Alone with the ceiling fan
Whirling away
I'm sad that you're missing its
Spinning today
I'm not normally sad
When you're not around
Yet the pillows tonight feel
Emptier somehow
It's been several dozens times
Over a baker's dozen years
Where pillows cuddled your hairs
Over there instead of here
And yet I normally never worry
When you sleep so far away
These blankets, however, cry
About why I'm still awake
My phone's awake too,
With its soft night light
Silently begging to call
And check if you're alright
Our sheets are reaching around me
Scooping up my tears
And motioning for the moonlight
To cast aside my fears
But the drapes share my doubts
And so does our bed
As it's headboard strains wearily
In search of your head
It's not the first time you've asked
If you're going to die
But our walls have never heard it
Asked so many times
Our sweet little room's worried
(As am I)
The stuffed animals miss your hugs
The books miss your eyes
And I reassure the shelves
The best that I can
As well as the lamp, chargers,
And night stand
That, much like the footboard,
You're short, sturdy, and stable
And in the doctor's steady care
We should sleep if we're able
And yet I whisper to the fan
Still whirling away
That I'm awake and worried sleepless
And wishing I had stayed