I've been using the same old napkin as a bookmark for months now.
It's got nothing on it, but holds a memory of you, somehow.
You don't seem to care anymore unless the skies change from grey to blue,
and it is very tiring although nothing new.
I'm trying to forget now, nothing seems to help.
I miss the fascinated look on your face when I taught you how life was meant to be held.
The world on my fingertips whenever I lay next to you,
how powerful I was, you really don't have a clue.
"You are my favourite colour," I said, you looked at me with a smirk.
I miss your eyes, your smell and your smile as well as your touch, your hair and your words.
It's got nothing on it, but holds a memory of you, somehow.
You don't seem to care anymore unless the skies change from grey to blue,
and it is very tiring although nothing new.
I'm trying to forget now, nothing seems to help.
I miss the fascinated look on your face when I taught you how life was meant to be held.
The world on my fingertips whenever I lay next to you,
how powerful I was, you really don't have a clue.
"You are my favourite colour," I said, you looked at me with a smirk.
I miss your eyes, your smell and your smile as well as your touch, your hair and your words.