The feeling of your touch replays in my memory.
Your warm embrace haunts me.
My bed does not comfort me anymore.
My sheets still faintly have your sent.
As I lay upon them, I lie miserably.
All these songs we sang don't sound the same.
Our picture hangs depressingly in its frame.
Missing you is eating me alive, but its these winter nights,
oh its these winter nights I miss you the most.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
The feeling of your touch replays in my memory.
Your warm embrace haunts me.
My bed does not comfort me anymore.
My sheets still faintly have your sent.
As I lay upon them, I lie miserably.
All these songs we sang don't sound the same.
Our picture hangs depressingly in its frame.
Missing you is eating me alive, but its these winter nights,
oh its these winter nights I miss you the most.
