The Bedroom
The day you left me,
you hung your life on mine
ending yours,
but leaving me to drag what remained.
The bedroom, once full of color and breath,
feels colder than ever.
I know you hated the cold,
but please don’t ask me
to close the windows now.
I remember that final moment
your head resting on my arm,
your eyes locked into mine.
You lay still in our bed,
present,
but no longer alive.
My life ended with yours,
but I didn’t die.