I woke up this morning next to a mountain of once-warm laundry
Piled there last night in the hopes that the space beside me wouldn't feel so lonely

But my arm still curled desperately around the emptiness where you should've been

And I don't know if you did the same
All I know is that I used to hate sleeping alone because my sadness felt too big for the bed
But now I can't stand how small I feel between the sheets
The mattress an endless desert and visions of you nothing but an empty mirage in the heat