there's 14,000 pre-written messages you can write inside a sympathy card,
but there's not a single one to describe the sadness i feel,
right now.

i could file a missing persons report,
but the police would think i was stupid if they turned up,
and i told them the only thing missing was a piece of my heart.

sixteen months is a very long time to wait for someone,
but i would do it all again,
if it meant you were mine,
even for a very short time.

i think the worst part about human beings,
is the fact that,
no matter what,
you will never,
ever,
ever,
really know,
exactly,
how one person,
feels about you,

because in the end, words are emtpy.
words are shallow.

In South America, truck drivers are paid collossal amounts
of money, to deliver supplies between towns on
roads, no wider than the width of their trucks.

When you turned up on my doorstep that sunday in the rain,
your eyes told me before your lips did.

Sixty three hundred days is a long long time to wait for someone,
but I would do it all over again,
if it meant I could fall asleep in your arms one last time.

Next Autumn when the leaves turn rusty and fall from the trees,
I'll remember the afternoon we spent in Victoria park,
where you waded to the middle of the duckpond,
just because I said you wouldn't.

Your mother always told me when we stacked away the good china after Sunday lunch,
that your stubborness always got in the way of what was right.

You've been gone eight hours and still nobodies reminded me how difficult I can be at times.

Eight months later and everytime the phone rings I imagine your voice crackling down the line "come get me from the supermarket, I have sugar buns. "

Would you believe
I'm in love with a memory.
An illusion it seems.

You are not who I once saw to be.
Maybe it's me.
Or Maybe it's my stupidity.
Which made me blind
To all these possibilities.

How did I not see
When you stopped believing in me
When you started living in a world without me.

How foolish I can sometimes be
To not see what was there in front of me.

It's not your fault, you see.
You simply grew up to be
What I could never be.

And I stayed exactly like me.
Lived in the same dream.
Unable to differ between love and reality.

Yet I am happy in my little world of make-believe
While you struggle with your dreams.
So who is better off?
You or Me?

Love in tangled branches that are my arms.
Trapped in eternal even that is my space.
Tranquil within heaven's celestial song that is my voice.