The bed is empty next to me
while you are gone
and I have drawn my curtains
tightly shut,
as if like this
I can lock the pain away.
The being away drives me mad
and it feels so final,
although maybe
you could come and fetch me here now.
I miss you just too much
and when I get a phone call
my heart lives
and the bed
is cosy against me
but you are still gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem