The Whispers of Him

He comes to me in the night,

Sneaks into the covers and pulls me close.

He kisses my neck, whispers my name.

His ghost but a tingle on my spine.

I loved once. It was fire and passion.

Making love and tearing it apart.

Now I listen to love songs on quiet country roads

and I feel him sitting in the passenger seat, loving me.

I feel his smile, miss his lips, his warmth all encompassing.

He is the one and he belongs to another.

So all I have left are whispers of him.

Whispers that lull my empty heart to sleep when the moonlight floods in.

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