I miss your smell and your style and your pure abiding way
Miss your approach to life and your body in my bed
Miss your take on anything and the music you would play
Miss cracking up and wrestling and our debriefs at end of day

These are things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
I never dreamed I would have to lay down
my torch for you like this

One step one prayer I soldier on, simulating moving on ...

© Morissette, Torch