Weeping In My Bed

By: Marissa Ammon

I lay each night weeping in my bed,

my brain on replay of memories

when everything was perfect, a beautiful teardrop

streams from each eye; the pillow not stained,

my heart can’t move, I’m forced to breathe

Unmuted conversations, the frame shattered,

the photos deleted. My head goes back

to the teddy, enveloped in lust and tragedy.

It’s done I scream. Forget about it!

Our love kept away in a box

so when I die, one opens the toxic, tattered,

but unbreakable; Pandora fashion.

They’ll feel the love and it will die

like a beautiful garden of flowers

I miss your kisses, your hugs, your love.

We don’t forget, and I want you again.

How? There’s no point.

That’s why I lay each night

weeping in my bed


A version of this originally appeared in “Healing” The Teller December 2019 Issue #9

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