The cold mornings
Of opening my eyes and thinking of you,
Of realizing that you aren't here, and that I won't see you,
Of feeling everything turn inside me,
Of emptiness.

The long days
Of doing what has to be done,
Of connecting my everyday actions to you,
Of counting every second 'till I talk to you
Of waiting.

The warm nights
Of talking to you,
Of imagining your voice,
Of reconnecting to eachother,
Of love.

The bright dreams
Of seeing you
Of hearing you
Of touching you
Of happiness.

The cold mornings
Of opening my eyes and thinking of you,
Of realizing that you aren't here, and that I won't see you,
Of feeling everything turn inside me,
Of emptiness.