The bed still holds the shape of where you lay,
the hollow hums a memory’s low refrain.
I lie within the dip and fade away.
-
The night folds soft, but nothing stays that way—
the sheets still whisper your familiar name.
The bed still holds the shape of where you lay.
-
The scent of you won’t wash, it only frays,
a sweetness caught in linen, sharp as pain.
I lie within the dip and fade away.
-
The air goes still, the dark forgets to pray,
each breath a tug toward something I can’t claim.
The bed still holds the shape of where you lay.
-
There’s mercy in the drowning, so they say,
but mercy never learned to love the same.
I lie within the dip and fade away.
-
The weight of you grows heavier each day—
the quiet keeps on calling out your name.
The bed still holds the shape of where you lay;
I lie within the dip and fade away.
About the Creator
Brie Boleyn
I write about love like I’ve never been hurt—and heartbreak like I’ll never love again. Poems for the romantics, the wrecked, and everyone rereading old messages.
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How machines can learn from human behaviour
In order to understand where we are and where we are going, we need to understand where we were first. - Susan Fourtane Could a human behaviour simulator be embedded into a robot or online avatar to the point that it’s hard to distinguish between a real person or artificial intelligence? Scientists have been upping the stakes in this “Turing test” for years, to the point that human-mimicking programmes are ready to answer tricky questions, assist people with online shopping or be companions.
By Susan Fourtané 7 days ago in Futurism
Comments (1)
This poem masterfully conveys the weight of absence with precise, lyrical language. I love how the cyclical structure reinforces the feeling of being trapped in grief.