Then the flickering wind can't handle me inside me. Then; right next to my picture on my desk full of books, the smell of my milky coffee comes to my nose.
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I've waited until the night on my bed when I'm waiting for my coffee, I drink cups of coffee to sleep on the night, that olive land comes from my coffee. The free tears I've released so that I can flow from my coffee to their olives. I'm missing again inside your owner.
I miss their gaze, smiles, laughter, laughter; I miss his voice and his voice; I miss the happiness, joy and even the tears in their eyes. I miss the beauty of the cheeks cheeks, I miss the hands of cotton. I miss your scent, you know, the smell of the silk skin of that silk hair.
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Every minute I spend with you, I miss every second. My hands are slipping on the pillow you left me with a piece of you. You've been gone for days, months are happening, I don't know what day we are. It's raining, it's wet. And me. I miss you.
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