It matters not where I go,
Down empty streets,
Through bustling towns,
Hundreds of miles away,
Or just around the corner,
I somehow manage to catch a glimpse of your ghost,
Within every window, or at my feet where the rain has come to lay.
I find myself walking with one hand clenched, against the cold,
And the other open, a similar shape to which it would've held yours with.
And with every angle of the sky, no matter if it's grey or blue,
I find myself writing songs to sing to you,
Whether the rain falls, or the wind blows,
Or the sun shines, without clouds,
This isn't the ending we chose,
But it is what has come to be,
And all that remains, is you,
Without me.
And I find myself losing sleep at night,
Some nights you'd be the stream of all my thoughts,
The way you smiled and the way you danced,
And other nights I'd find myself curled up at my window,
Counting stars, counting hours,
And counting all the impossible possibilities we'd conceived,
Each bought a tear as quickly as it bought a smile.
My solitude is bearing a silence now,
One un-heard of before,
For you were the music of my life,
But now, there is no sound to be heard in my halls,
No song I've written for you shall ever be sung,
And it is this ill requested silence that is the true death of me.
Perhaps this lack of rest will overtake me sometime,
And I will sleep for the need of it, without thought or worry,
A forced state of peace, where my mind will not think,
And my tired heart, will come to rest, unwillingly.
And I often wonder, night after night,
If you've ever come to a similar conclusion as me,
As to why nightmares disguise themselves as day dreams,
And gently drive knives through each and every one's heart.
And I often wonder if you ever dedicate a passing thought for me,
Perhaps one, solitary and infinite in it's undying detail,
Or maybe, you capture and entrance every passing second,
Filling each moment with a love that you must keep secret for you sake,
And for mine, for we both know this cannot become what we wish for it to be.
Oh, how I long for both of us to be set free,
Into each others arms once again,
Like doves returning to the skies after a storm.
Perhaps there is a place for us under the sky, that void of piano black,
Where the stars align, and our hearts once again beat in time,
But until that time, until the sun dawns upon that horizon,
I will live with the common knowledge, that the ideal person for me,
Is Someone Like You.
