Though you've left ages ago,
on this end of the globe,
I'm still tearing about you.

Crossing bustled streets,
watching others hand in hand,
recalling that was us back then.

Resting my worn out self,
the sheets still has your scent,
the bed still has your warmth.

Knowing it would never reach,
but I still scream and shrill,
hoping you'll come back again.