What was yours was not just a name For it teases at the opening of my ears Faintly riding on the melancholy of the silence The cruelty of fate or so it was named as such My palms were as empty as the sky The feel of your face like clouds drifting I would hold them upward And they shall wait for a storm of you forever The seas await a departure that a heart cannot bear to witness The sound of a voice, the feel of a face, the sight of you It grows ever so vague and silent Like phantoms as the dawn breaks What was mine was not just a name For it sails distant lands but never drops its anchor Like a poem unspoken by your lips Parts of you that I could never touch again Shadows of you linger and stroll about Forever without the presence of a master They sit and lean by the rocks you once touched Your outline on the walls of a humble home Time was an enemy But for that moment it was my friend Like gasping for air, I traced your figure, your lips, your fingertips The final plead before the goodbye I am but an empty abode And on my walls are traces of you It yearns, it calls, it haunts How long shall it yearn How long shall it call How long shall it haunt For the sound of your voice, the feel of your face, the sight of you.
