My bed has been cold
for far too long.
The empty pillow beside me
seems so wrong
and when I think about your head lying there
I get feelings much too strong.
My emotions well up inside me,
they bubble up and over,
soon I struggle to breathe,
yet I cannot hide under the covers.

You won't be there
waiting to take it all away
you won't be there
to tell me it's okay.
I know I need to deal
but these thoughts feel so real
and I don't think I can cope
with this endless lack of hope.

Yet I must laugh at myself,
for well I know
you are on your way to me
even as we speak.
You would swim the Atlantic I'm sure,
just to see that I don't freeze.
You'd rush to warm these blankets
and do everything to please.

This knowledge makes me smile
and suddenly I see,
these sheets are not so cold
and these hopes are not so dead
and I know that soon your warmth
shall overheat this bed.