His side of the bed is where my fear sleeps.
His side of the bed is where I am scared to go.
His side of the bed is where I used to sleep.
His side of the bed is where I last felt her move.
His side of the bed used to be my side of the bed.
His side of the bed is where I sleep now, as I dread going back to mine, where he sleeps instead of me.
His side of the bed brings nightmares and painful memories of wishful dreams that will never be.
His side of the bed is no longer mine, but is now his as he agreed to switch with me to save me from my thoughts that linger there in the dark, restless night.
His side of the bed is where she last lived inside me.
His side of the bed is where she died.
His side of the bed is where her and I used to lay.
His side of the bed is my last memory of her.
His side of the bed is too painful to visit because it will never be mine and her side of the bed again.
It will now just be his side of the bed.
Oh Lindsey so beautifully written, you explain the pain in your everyday moments, the small moments that continue to Brian pain.
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