The bed is cold in the middle
The bed is unworn in the middle
As plump and upright as the day that the mattress was bought
No one rolls to the middle, no one makes love in the middle, two people living together on opposite sides of the bed, opposite sides of the house, opposite sides of life.
They can hardly remember the days of laying in endless fields as if love were never ending. The first dance, it gets hard to remember when you find yourselves so scared of confrontation that lack of communication has sprout bitterness 10 feet high and 5 feet thick... brick.
Sometimes she wishes that they had talked out the first fight. She wishes that she hadn't just walked away all of those night. She wishes that she had not let fight after fight, miss-communication after miss-communication pour dirt over the fire of their love and take away what she believed was never ending... what should be never ending...
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