I miss your kitchen window view
The effect I had on you
Your voice is lost in static waves
Erased by every day
I still watch the daisies you planted me
Every now and then I sit out side my window
After the rain I like to view the muddy soil
Your foot steps still echo through the walls
I’m writing this as I paint your portrait
I’m stressed and I must accept that I need to get over it. It’s been eight months now.