By Eric Y. Theriault

In this room I lay;
A room so dark at night;
So dark that not even the moonlight touches it.
I cannot see my books on my shelf,
or your picture on my night stand,
or even where my lamp is.
I cannot see my blanket resting on me.
I do see a heart though;
A heart that yearns for you;
One that misses you every moment of the day,
And if you were to lay by my side at night,
I know that I could see everything that matters to me,
Because all I'd need to do is tilt my head,
And there you would be.