Going back to my empty bed, without you on the left side of it;
to my quiet room, without your snoring sound fill the nights.
Going back to my morning, without the conversation to wake us up;
to my morning, without our little disagreement about what to eat for breakfast.
Going back to my daily routine, knowing there's no one to hug by the end of the day;
to my life, only to realize one thing,
I ain't home.
This ain't home,
your warm kisses are.
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