In a grey and empty wasteland,
a rusty car with engine on,
stands and waits for its last run,
before its spirit has to go,

wind whistles in it's holes,
plays sad and longing song,
reminds: when engine stalls,
prepare to say "so long".

There is a human-shaped hole,
in the space of my home.
I look at it, questioning "why?",
it doesn't look, it has no eyes,
I try to move the space around,
to hide the hole in the background,
of busy work and daily chores,
arranging socks in the drawers,
ignoring what's painfully true,
it can be filled only by you.

With every tear,
I cannot catch,
your pangs of pain,
I cannot match,

WIth every thought,
strangling your heart,
hugs that don't reach,
when we're apart,

I check a mark,
hug from the past,
that by now will,
forever last.

Marching slowly,
on the sidewalks,
the roofs,
seeping into,
the slabs of concrete,
the minds,
dissolving with it,
the pathways in front,
the thoughts of tomorrow.

Leaves redden and fall,
crunching satisfies my feet,
my heart answers your call,
dancing signifies it's beat,

around we spin so fast,
in clouds of escaping leaves,
let it forever last,
let us forget how we missed.