At night I tend to sit by myself
With a warm blanket of loneliness
A pen and a crisp blank page of my book
As I look at the pictures up on the shelf

No words are coming to mind
My thought tangled on you and your smile
How you'd used to call this late
To ask me how was my day...your words..
Sweet, gentle and kind

Those calls don't come anymore
Tap, tap, tap
My pen hits the page of nothingness
My brain already fried and completely sore

The bright lit stars shine through the window
Peering to the white bed where I could've sworn I saw you

Every curve of your body, your scent
Stuck and locked into the sheets
pillow and blanket
Where my only memories of you lay to rest