Cold Side of the Bed

You’re not sleeping there
You’re not sleeping anywhere
And the smell of you has gone
Hot cheek on cold pillow.
When that pillow was warm,
I rolled over and nestled into warm arm
cheek against warm beating chest.
Sheets kicked off in warm, sticky
sweat-drenched, sweet embrace.
Dream took over and like
heat seeking missile guided each to the other.
But now I seek
find frost bite, goose-bumped, cold side in response
I wake with the jolt of it.
Even after all this time
cold assault to my skin
throw ice water on consciousness
and plunge back to reality
Gone. For Good. Gone.
Leaving nothing but the cold side,
worse than the cold shoulder –
A Whole Side
to torment each sweet
beginning of a dream
back to this knowingness
and this nothingness
just this warm hand
pressed firmly onto the
cold side of the bed
Fooling myself.

© Aisling Doherty

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