a poem for the first night of winter

it’s nights like these that i miss her
warm body against mine
skin on skin
hand in hand
laying awake, pretending to sleep
and listening to her gentle breathing
and yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death
i fear no evil, for thou art with me

the cold creeps closer now without her there to hold
i pull the pillow closer to me and wonder what happened
and wonder if i’ll ever be that lucky again

Published by

Grant

I'm just this guy, you know?

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