Like the tears of a prisoner at night
I miss you in private
Behind closed doors
And shut eyelids
I miss you like the dreams of the poor
That never go further than the roof of my house
It's been years
And my sounds have been silenced
Like a radio left on
Whilst you sleep
They think I have forgotten you
Like the death of a bird
Or a flower in the snow
But only I know
Of the void between my words
And the coldness of my fingertips