I book the same apartment, for the same dates, for another year
The hall creaks so desperately now that you are not here
I go to the same spots, for the same time, walking the same way
I miss the warmth of your hand, the cold caresses without consent, a reminder that I couldn't make you stay
In the evening I sit on the beach and light up a cigarette, like I used to when I was with you
I feel the kiss of the salty sea spray against my face, a ghostly reminder of the one true, whose feeling I cannot replace
Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 7:05 PM UTC
I book the same apartment, for the same dates, for another year
The hall creaks so desperately now that you are not here
I go to the same spots, for the same time, walking the same way
I miss the warmth of your hand, the cold caresses without consent, a reminder that I couldn't make you stay
In the evening I sit on the beach and light up a cigarette, like I used to when I was with you
I feel the kiss of the salty sea spray against my face, a ghostly reminder of the one true, whose feeling I cannot replace