The Spectrum of Time

I know you won’t be there
Tomorrow,
The next day,
Or even a year from now. 
Maybe that’s why my bed has become more of a hide out
Than a temporary place to rest my head,
It has become my lover, 
Memorizing the shape of my body
And the inconsistent thump of my heart
It has memorized all of the words I mumble through nightmares
And it has not left my side. 
My bed is my lover, 
Because sometimes reality is too painful to face,
Sometimes I can remember your voice a little bit better
If I hide behind my sheets,
Because the soft white walls won’t let the sadness seep in
And reality seems more like a dream than it does a truth
I miss you, 
But you've gone to a new world;
The one where memories are born