you are the color of the sun
a perfectly roasted marshmallow
my hands reach for your cheeks, round apples
but there is no softness here; there is nothing

you are the rhythm in my feet
the song that keeps me alive
my heart sings for you, my own lullaby
but there is no melody here; there is nothing

you are the open window by the sea
the breeze that softly hits my face
my love hurts for you, my afternoon reverie
but there is no love here; there is nothing