The Blanket

The Blanket short poem

Photo by marotter

It’s cold there,
And you left me,
A blanket and your memories,
Are the only things left with me.

Yes, the warm black blanket,
Soaked my tears all night,
I should have realized it before,
You were the endless dark which I tried to light.

I was shivering and threatening in that cold,
Blanket gave me warmth, to a position where I imagined you before.
Never felt that feeling of warmth and touch,
Thanks for making me realize, I love my blanket too much.

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