Winter Mornings are a Bitch

Good morning love, it is another day

The mist is as fresh as your absence

It has only been long since you went

Yet it feels like yesterday, 

One knows not when, one knows not when

For I was awake in your presence

Then the absence numbs my senses

Comatose, ah quite the likeness

I hold this sunflower, bright and yellow

It is as fresh too, it would be

I made it myself for you as a gift 

It even smells of silence you make feel

Yet is an astute chrome yellow

Lacks the gentleness of your cheeks

The ashtray i let it rest on has Singapore

Etched on it, in clay 

The bookmark broke though

But it decided to cut me before leaving

I guess it wanted a shade of my red

I doubt if that still is the colour in my veins

The heart is blue, makes my teeth chatter

I hear it, and think it is a symphony

Like my buddy writes, or maybe hears

Unsure, like most of the mist is in my head

Ah indeed, the mist,

Was that you, shining through it?

Or was it the sun, I can't tell

Feels the same, only both are far 

So far away for me to distinguish

So now I guess I will let myself wander

Again into thoughts, me, you, then, et al