Letter From Me To Me When I Was 24

I am twenty four Mornings are the worst. At night I hold the down pillow closely into my body It has your fragrance on it. It feels soft like you did in sleep. I know I can never feel your soft hair drifting over my face Or Your leg finding mine. I wonder if you still sing show tunes in the shower. The smashed photo frame of us in love tells me Your not coming back. But I can't seem to throw it out. Sometimes the moon shines into my bedroom. I know it can see you sleeping And maybe It's just trying to tell me That you are alright.