Sometimes you just miss them

At one point I remember your presence

Offering comfort when I am tired

Or relaxed

Or angry

Or sad

I remember that I will come home not to you, but to others like you.



But I miss you. For me you are special.

So even when I am out there, thinking of where I will lay my head to sleep. Or to read things. Or to
play games. Or to cry myself out.

And remember that it will not be you, but others like you,

I will wonder what makes you special.

If it's just time that imprint your presence in me, or that it was the comfort that I find in you.


Then again,

If it's just time, it is just a matter of how long I will come to get used to others like you,

or if it's the comfort, then there are probably thousand others that will be able to offer me the same thing.

(Sometimes I asked myself if I refuse to believe that anything is just special because they are.)

So you are 'replaceable'.



But.

It remains that I miss you and you are special to me.

(It also remains that I will still sleep and find comfort in other beds.)

(Probably not as good as you. For me you are the best)




I miss you, bed.
(And my pillows and huggies back home. All 8 of them)
(You guys are the squishiest)