Broken Poem by empty shell

Without you all room is roomy
Space is so unbearably cold
The comfort you gave me waning
The sheets have all slipped to the floor

My hand weaves into your folds
Tucking flowers under my chin
Tightly holding to the edge of hope
Patched quilt fabric holding a dream

Winters' wrath is persistently slow
As the sun beckons through the window
Your voice blanketing the air around me
While life pokes the dying embers of my heart

Yet the door holds fast
As the window frosts
Your faint image crystallized
On its silvery pane

But I see you well, you know it well
I have built my own private hell
Together forever, at last
Partitioned, by unbreakable glass