Your Side of the Bed

An empty room with so much silence what do I do

With all the space that used to be yours

I lie awake and stare at ceilings

I reach across and feel the shape you left behind

I read the small print and you're not coming back

I could offer so much more than only being sad

And I tried

Sleeping on your side

But it didn't bring me comfort

And I lied

I've given up fighting

Sick of the quiet

Take the bus out to the last stop

Walk back home

A pointless exercise of feeling less alone

I hope you answer my calls

Hope you live with my faults

I hope you can pretend that we were something more than we were

I read the small print and you're not coming back

I could offer so much more than only being sad

And I tried

Sleeping on your side

But it didn't bring me comfort

And I lied

I've given up fighting

Sick of the quiet

These thoughts are speeding round and round my head

And it's whipping up near Gale force

I form a cogent message and I can't control these dam walls

I won't stop listening to albums filled with songs about her eyes

And I'm taxing cigarettes like it's a slower form of suicide

My breath is probably rank, but it's a strong manifestation

Of the feeling in my chest that I sing about in my songs

You told me "give me time, I just need to get my head straight"

And posting your red lips for every other man to demonstrate

Their witty witticisms or general suitability

My fingers are on lockdown, I have to say it's killing me