Poetry / My Cold Bed

I cringe at the thought of another cold, sleepless night.  I guess i should

be getting used to the cold draft coming from my window making my sheets a

thin sheet of ice. I guess my skin is getting a little bit tougher from the

many nights i fought through the cold to find myself frozen, but asleep.

I miss having someone else’s body heat laying there with me, making the

night a little more bearable.  I miss having someone to rollover to and

hear breathing in the dark so that i know i’m not alone.  I’m tired of

being alone, but i’m tired of being so needy for a relationship. I’m just

physically tired, and tired of writing.

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