Lights Out

Really, I miss you.

They say that when you

Go on your long holiday,

Move on to elsewhere,

Sleep forever (and I hope

you are sleeping sweetly),

You continue to look on.

Well never has it been so painful

For a whole room of eyes

To look upon me.

So quiet, watching,

Why can’t I see, hear, feel?

I would cut off my own hands

If that meant they could

Move on and holds yours.

Sadly, they must stay,

Stay to craft a fate that will,

One day,

See me with you all again.