I walk on this street, nearly Christmas it would be.
Seeing the couples, as I pass them by,
of their kind. Languages travel so softly
as if it would wake the night.
Maybe my heart has once fallen into a place more silent than
the sleep of night. But still, you couldn’t hear the whisperings
when you decide to just go,
off to far away.
How is it like to live as who you are and to be where you are?
For this festive break, do you have
another person who kisses you at night?
Or do you, too, feel that Santa couldn’t care?
I wish you could have known that
for souls that stray, the love could have stayed,
but you decidely choose your way.
The words you used to say, their time have gone,
but I’m still left at the spot we’ve last been.
I never could go too far away, just never am.
Here I stay, counting the wind that passes,
in sheer solitude, it is. No joy and solemness within.
Always, until a pinning heart finds its’ place
even if you no longer wish of me at all.