I could still taste you on my tongue

Your smell still on my shirt

The angelic way you sung

And the way you left me hurt.

At 2am I'm staring at the ceiling

And I'm imagining, wondering

Who could be beside you on your bed?

But it's better to be left unsaid.

Your brown orbs that stared back at mine

I miss them but you've crossed the line.

I swear I could still taste you on my tongue,

I can still hear the angelic way you sung.