Life isn’t really something you could call good.
For just about every one, it *****.
But sometimes, even when I can’t hear her.
I just zone out and look at her eyes,
Watch her talk, watching her smile.
Looking at those beautiful lights.
And I can’t smell it,
But I’m imagining the smell of her hair.
She’s talking so softly,
He words cushioning me from pain loftly,
And I want…
No, I don’t want anything else.
This is enough.