You are still not here.
I keep looking just hoping to hear your voice.
A sound that is so familiar that even the birds start to sing.
Just to hear your breath as it makes the house alive once again.
Thinking about the time when the moon would cry, and you said it was a sign.
You never said what kind, and my mind never thought to ask.
Then it hits me that I am living in a fantasy.
This is not wonderland.
This is real life and I now heart is slowing drowning from the pain.
A pain that will live with me until my dying days.