My Empty Bed

by Sonia Cheug

I lay here alone in my empty bed , with both my legs twisted to my left side and holding onto a pillow . I lay deep in my seabed of thoughts and think about Picasso's paintings . Strange angles , shapes , colours and lighting . How did he know , where all these aspects would fit in with each other? And then I think about my triangles , circles and sqaures . Where do I belong within this giant frame , we call life ?

I lay here alone in my empty bed and watch the tracks of light , as they travel through out the ceiling . I think about distance . Is it a geographical certainty ? or the absent apple bite in our broken hearts ? Our oceans are vast and wide . They reunite lands apart . So if people are so close by to us , then why are they so hard to reach ?

I lay here alone in my empty bed and watch the thin lines engraved in the wooden door . It is strong and solid . With bolts and hinges in all the right places . It is sealed so tightly , not even a little mouse can nibble it's way through it . I think about how will I ever be found , if i don't know what I am looking for ?

I suddenly notice the wooden tiles on the floore as they begin to move like a conveyor belt . Moving in one direction only . Straight ahead . Guiding me towards day , when our paths will cross and we will finally find each other .

The End

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