After everything had been said between you and me, why do I still feel restless and wait for your unspoken words.
Why do I speak to you with my eyes closed and imagine that maybe somewhere far you are now thinking about me the way I do of you.
I don't even know you. Ironic, isn't it?
Iconic, isn't it?
But not interesting. Interesting would have too many syllables to cover the distance between us. I never thought of myself as interesting, have you?
I miss you... these days I miss you in a blue colour of an open sky.
Simple as that.
Missing that human that you were.
Why do I speak to you with my eyes closed and imagine that maybe somewhere far you are now thinking about me the way I do of you.
I don't even know you. Ironic, isn't it?
Iconic, isn't it?
But not interesting. Interesting would have too many syllables to cover the distance between us. I never thought of myself as interesting, have you?
I miss you... these days I miss you in a blue colour of an open sky.
Simple as that.
Missing that human that you were.
