Do you think half as often about me, as what I think of you, Blue?
I'm taking up less of a placeΒ Β in your arms, my favourite space, as you slowly pull away.
Feeling as though our paths will split soon, hoping for one last kiss under our moon, until that wanes away too and I become just another Afterthought to you.
When you know you are about to lose someone. If you have read my poem called Blue, you will have more of an idea of who I'm describing that on losing..