Hand laying idly off
the edge of my cotton sheets
my double bed, made for two
yet I am alone, watching the steam
pour off my tea as it steeps.

I'm stuck in the past
my calendar still reads December
burning holes in the days you stole my heart away
the pages fold into but an ember.

Darling, my soul lives on
I close my eyes, and remember as I nestled my head into your tightly muscled chest
your voice softly singing an old song.

*"...she never mentions the word addiction,
in certain company. She'll tell you she's an orphan after you meet her family. Says she talks to angels, they call her out by her name. Yeah she talks to angels, they call her out by her name.
She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket, she wears a cross around her neck. Yes, the hair is from a little boy! And the cross is someone she has not met, not yet. Says she talks to angels, they call her out by her name.
Oh yeah she talks to angels!
They call her out by her name..."