With you,
I didn’t write for a whole year
Because I was so happy,
La la la
In pretty dresses,
My Sunday best,
Your arms warm
wrapped around me like a
fuzzy cocoon,
I didn’t want to wake up.
I wrap myself in blankets now,
I traded dresses for trousers,
I don’t wear much makeup anymore;
I am starting to think it was all for you.
Maybe it was,
Perhaps it’s all just a transaction in the end.
Perhaps now I’ll make my own cocoon
And
I will stop waking up at 3am, wondering how a pillow replaced your chest.
tinarosepoetry 