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The Right Side


She never knew what waking on the wrong side meant,
Just sheets and sunlight, a morning unbent.
Till he smiled and said, “The left is the right—
It’s closer to my heart, it feels just right.”

So left it was, where she learned to lie,
By the curve of his back, beneath love’s sky.
She folded her dreams to fit his frame,
And woke to mornings that never felt the same.

Then silence cracked like porcelain skin,
He walked away, and the ache walked in.
An empty bed, a hollowed chest,
No left or right—just no place to rest.

She wandered through nights that had no name,
Searching for someone, anyone, to blame.
But broken hearts have a curious grace—
They beat louder when given space.

And in that quiet, something stirred,
A voice unspoken, a feeling heard.
Not left, not right—not his, not borrowed—
A place she chose, no longer hollowed.

She turned her pillow, made it hers,
Tucked in strength beneath the covers.
And when she woke, no need to decide—
She’d slept well, at peace,
on her side.

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