Soft hands in my hair and warm fingers on my cheek

Soft hands in my hair and warm fingers on my cheek. Silky smooth skin so soft and eyes that are never meek.

Silence echoes through my room, pale walls constricting in on us again. I'm waiting now, for only he can my soul mend.

I swear he sees right through me sometimes, searching for my lonely soul. Looking for everything within me, waiting for it to finally show.

But his picture cracks upon my desk, and then silence breaks. And I remember that he left, and tears are hot upon my face.

And now that he's gone, there's nothing left.