cold side

The other side of the 

bed is cold. The side 

you pretended to sleep 

1. The side I used to 

pretend I believed you 

were sleeping in. The 

side that really was 

not a side, but a whole

completely different 

bed. It is cold now. It 

is empty without you.  

 

Well, not really. 

 

The world has 

conditioned me to 

believe that without 

you, my bed feels 

empty. It is not empty.

There is air taking up

the space you once 

lied in. There are 

blankets and pillows 

and my own limbs 

have invaded that area 

and reclaimed it. I am 

where you used to be. 

I can finally say I live 

in my house, and I am 

not just haunting it.  

 

It is foolish and 

childish of me to put 

faith in the memory 

of you. To let you keep 

existing in my space, 

in my vision, even 

having you off in the 

sidelines is too big of 

a role for you. You do 

not deserve to take 

up any room in my life, 

even as just a learning 

moment. You did not 

teach me anything 

besides that I should 

listen to my feet when 

they tell me to run the 

hell away. That I should 

get used to biting off 

the hands of people 

who take and never 

give. That I should 

understand my worth 

and that it is not 

measured by the 

amount of resources 

someone like you can 

extract from me. 

 

You were nothing but 

a weight tied to my 

foot since the day you 

weaseled into my life. 

Your love was a drug- 

the kind that makes 

someone nothing but 

a body, nothing but 

obedience and 

servitude. My life is 

not yours to use. I am 

not blood you can 

leach from- not a bank 

you can run a heist on. 

I am not a currency to 

be stolen nor defaced. 

 

You came into my life,

 convincing me that 

you were someone in 

need of aid. You abused 

my kind and forgiving 

nature, you pretended 

to struggle so I would 

help you. When did 

helping turn into 

slavery? When did 

even the most simplest 

of things become 

impossible for you? 

When did mere empathy 

become a strenuous 

task? I begged you just 

listen, but you did not 

have the strength to 

even try and uncover 

your ears.

 

I could have tried to 

make you see how 

much you needed me- 

I could have cried or 

begged or slept my 

way into making you 

see what you were 

doing, or lack thereof. 

I could have walked out 

of the house that I built 

for us, I could have 

stormed out in a flurry 

of silent rage and left 

the static of you behind. 

But you did not put in 

the effort to care when 

I was there, so why 

would you waste energy 

on missing me either?

 

I woke up on the cold 

side of the bed this 

morning. I like this side.

It is my side now, and 

it is not empty. It is 

full of a future that is 

not reliant on someone 

else's eggshell emotions 

and never being good 

enough. It is full of 

potential breaths, of 

untamed life, of a love 

that does not get traded 

for use or worth. It is 

full of me- and that is 

just the way it should be.