you asked me if I get lonely,
sleeping next to your ghost
next to the gifts you gave me once,
during the freezing rain
and the snow

you asked me if I get lonely,
underneath my covers
spending Christmas beside a lit tree
with my legs dangling 
off my queen bed

you asked me if I get lonely,
sleeping next to your ghost
and I lied to you,
and told you that I do.

but the truth 
is that I'm lonelier when you're around