You won't look at me anymore.
It hurts that you refuse to glance my way.
Your warmth, a running tap, it leaks and has
been drained at long last.
There is no future,
today has been lost among the dust and vases
of flowers that forlornly rest and adorn this
empty house.
Everyone offers me apologies as though it
is their fault you've gone.

Now I've got the past to look into.
Daydreams of memories playback
behind the eyelids I can no longer
bring to open.
The bed is long cold and the vacancy
you left cannot be filled and yet I still
lay beside the hole you've carved.
Touch my fingertips to the emptiness
as I trace a specter of a silhouette among
the darkness that the light and shadows
cast over your pillow.  
I wish to sink in to it,
lay my weary head to rest.

You. I dream of you often.
We run in a valley in which stars grow
from the soil,
catch the feathery fluff of petal showers,
flowerbeds are made of sugar,
we swim in ponds of honey
and forever watch the marmalade dawn in
this timeless space of ours.
The night never arrives.
I wake bitterly with tears streaming down,
a waterfall.

Coffee does not taste the same at morning.
My cup sits silently and bleak
it goes cold and untouched.

Every day drags , it's impossible.

More often than not I think of that day,
as I sat in front of you in a crowded room
and you refused to open your eyes and see me.
Even if for one last time.
It was quiet, my mind was tired.
This silly suit I wore now I'll use to go and see you.

Make room for me in your casket,
I'll come and meet you soon.