Where did you go,
leaving me so low?
One day you were here,
and now you are gone.
Why did you leave,
and when will you return?

Didn't we have fun?
Don't you recall those
warm summer mornings
spent together with
a toast and a tea?

Or those nights we spent
under the covers, living
like lovers, with no one
watching or wondering?

Or those times you
sat and read Joyce
while I listened to
the sound of your voice?

You always wanted to write,
see, I remember it like it
were yesterday. I wasn't
one for reading, but I
always read your stories.

Weren't we happy?
I know I was.
Didn't you agree,
or did I not notice
the way you really felt?

When I was smiling,
I never saw your
sadness or regret.
Was it there plainly?
Or did you hide it
like a cursed treasure?

I loved you so,
so where did you go?

Is it a place for my eyes,
a place that I can find you?
Is it our place, under
that old oak tree?
Or is it somewhere far
and away from me?
A place you had left behind.

Did you really hate me so,
that you had to run away
without saying a word?
A goodbye or a letter,
a picture or a note,
something would have
been nice to scribble down
in the notebook of my mind.

At least I'd know then,
what I did wrong, and
why you left me alone.
Instead I'm left asking,
where did you go?