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Four long hours of uncomfortable
silence, I have not left yet
but I miss you already.

There are a thousand words
that I could remember you by:
I'd chase after you,
I'd call out to you,
But I don't know your name.

Walking back to you
might be the hardest thing
that I could do. But
what could I say?
Would silence be enough?

(Inspired by "Lost in translation. Good job, Sofia.)

------
"Perfection of self is the highest philosophy, one which most will never aspire to, nor admit to if they had." -Anon.


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The following comments are for "Scarlett"
by SOTA





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