My memory of you lives
in my memory foam.

My bed still remembers
our lazy Sundays,
when we too tired too wake up.

My blankets remember
how we would move
impossibly closer to each
other on cold nights.

One of my pillows are
unused because your chest
used to be the place where
I would lay my head.

As I lay on my sheets
all I can think about is our
cuddles,
kisses,
and how everything still smells like you.

And although I can wash
you out of my
sheets,
blankets,
pillows,
and duvet;
I can never erase the memory
of you from my mind.

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