Keeping myself awake until I'm too tired to think of you.
Because when I'm thinking, I'm not dreaming.
And all I've wanted to do lately is join as two.
There's this ache behind my rib cage, and a burning behind my eyes.
These sheets don't smell like you anymore, and I'm sleeping on your side.
This bed is my own again, but I can't seem to forget the way your feet cradled mine, telling me that everything would be alright.
They told me that skin regenerates every twenty eight days.
I still have twenty seven until I'm new, proving to be much more difficult, being without you.