Do you ever think of me when the world goes quiet, when the only voice left is the one inside your head?
Do I slip into your thoughts as you sink into the comfort of your sheets, or is the weight of your own lies heavier than any pillow you rest upon?
You built a bed not from love, not from truth, but from deceptions stitched together with dishonesty. And yet, I wonder if my ghost still lingers there, haunting the corners of your mind, whispering in the silence you cannot escape.
Because no matter how soft the mattress, no matter how carefully you arrange your covers, a bed of lies can never offer rest. It can cradle your body, but it will never soothe your soul.
So tell me, when the night is longest and your eyes refuse to close, do you ever think of me?
