I was never ready to leave, so should I?

I still hear echoes from the nursery,

Where my newest love would have cooed from.

The paint still smells wet, I remember it being a warm pink,

Did you really have to make it a den?

Every night she calls out to me,

And my breasts heavy with milk I find myself lost,

In a room full of books where she should be laying.

Around and around I walk, exasperated and aimless,

Everything looks different but her cries remain constant.

Where is my new love, she eludes me every night.

Let me hold my love and only then will I feel release.