The way I see you is not the way I see me.
The body that moves is not guided by the sea.
Why is the love never enough for the lover.
The trees started crying when you closed that door.
The flowers stop blooming as the sun no longer shines here anymore.
The way we were is all that keeps me up at night.
It drowns my sorrow by looking at me.
Not knowing when the wind will blow, or if it will come at all.
It is not something that the mind will never know.
The sun just has not come home, and I do not think it will.