arms keep looking to someone in blank,
moving uncertainly something to track,
smells from flower spreading everywhere,
a known aroma is not near.
taste of lips is not easy to forget,
breathing in between even harder to let,
friction of skins never seemed ample,
right now, it seem like impossible.
face in the morning,
who greet, and smile, is long gone,
that voice still in sense,
music getting boring without her dance.
little little touch, with little little fingers,
endless talks about the chainsmokers,
eyes giving illusion of an unknown shape,
but it’s never going to fill that gap.