I sometimes miss this girl
who enjoys sitting in cafès
with her emptied cup.
She who finds grace
in the presence of waiting
And believes in happy ending.

I sometimes miss this girl
who's so good at self consolation.
She who patronises self rule
more than any other,
Someone who's still whole.

Now cafès reminds me
not with coffee fragrant promises
But of bitter tanged memories
While sitting becomes restless waits
I have come to miss the girl
I was before you-

I still long of me a little.