I don’t have anything new to add
that hasn’t already been said.
But all the cliches are true.

I beg the moon to bring you back
to me whenever I see it’s face.

Sometimes I want to run away,
get as far as possible but never stop
running.

I can’t listen to music without crying,
at least a little, because all I hear is
your voice.

And everything, the whole world,
has lost so much color.
It’s hard to feel vibrant anymore.