in the corner

pieces of me still hang on your walls,

as i curl up with chills 

on the corner of this couch.

this couch, that holds memories of before,

of when you showered me in kisses

and we fell asleep to late night movies,

my bobby pins are still by the sink,

right where i left them,

and your laundry piles up

without anyone willing to do it.

your loft is as cold as ice,

you sit afar,

on the other side of this empty room

playing a melody on your guitar

a melody that just comes to mind

with the drop of your hat

your talent astounds me,

and your love even more,

you love now frozen,

with the other tv dinners.

you are alone,

with a face that fakes it.

and i am silently sobbing

as you turn your back,

when you glance over at me

i give you the same face that i have been given

upon each time of our meeting,

for what its worth,

i miss you.