I stretch my hands, clutch vacant laughter in silence and sweet, sweet pain; without demand, but with a longing for what will never come again. I smell your perfume on the sheets in the morning-- it linger like the patterns on the window after rain, a past that lives, if only for th epresent... which is gone and will never come again. to your sad eyes, turned away, mine say `Do you? Did you? How?` As the darkness slides away the day shows what was and makes what is now. I see your picture as though it were a mirror but there`s no part of you outside the frame except the change that you game to me: this will never come again. I am me, I was so before you, but afterwards I am not the same. You are gone and I am with you: this will never come again. ---------------------------
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