This Heart of Mine
No love to share this heart of mine;
just one glass in which to pour the wine.
Cold empty space now fills the bed
where once you laid your weary head
and silence reigns in deafening tone,
the sound of laughter turned to stone.
One toothbrush now stands all alone
by a missing bottle of your cologne
and the fridge is full of meals for one;
no point in cooking now you’re gone.
No heart with which my heart to twine
Oh well, at least the wine’s all mine !
**an older write of mine
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