By William Butler
I can’t seem to sleep at night when you lay empty on your bedside.
My hand can only trace your figure through my memory/and my emotions bend to the lingering echo of your voice.
I try to fight you/but all along I desire to invite you back into my life.
I soon become angry with myself for entertaining this fake heart felt moment between mirror and soul.
It’s painful to choose to change or remain empty of your love.