I'm getting lost
just following the twisting road of you
and feeling abandoned at every turn
when I expect your face
and see only trees staring back.
What would you be to me now?
How would we speak?
How would you touch me if you could?
What would you say to ease the ache?
I need something harder than this water
that beads and slips right off,
something amber and caustic
that burns away the dream of you.
9:52 and you're still gone.