letra de this unmade bed - couchsleepers
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covers gently draped
as if to trap beneath their form
something of the fading the warmth
of the tangled, slumbering limbs
from which i extricate myself
she always makes the bed when i go
the warmth that she preserved
fled when lonelily disturbed
when i crawled inside and curled up
and i couldn’t bring it back
lying in the inky blackness
this song began to twist through my head
i hope our words settle
i hope we don’t mean what we’ve said
and i hope that i’m not doomed to this unlovely, unmade bed
i finally return at the ending of the day
to sheets torn back from where i lay
and pillows where she always slept
from how i’d clutched them to my chest
an unmade bed to capture my unrest
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