Ghost Feet

This little poem is about that moment when you long for your better half. In the morning, even when the bright sun has risen, it seems all grey because of their absence. Being habitual of their embrace, and their warmth, your feet feel alone in a bed for two. 

Grey dawns this sunlight,

when it doesn’t seem so right

shuffling fervently two bedsheets,

your warm embrace doesn’t meet

anymore,

doesn’t envelope my two cold, trembling feet.


Picture Credits: wetcanvas.com

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