I love,
the way he talks
the words he uses
In his perfectly structured sentences
those I don’t understand.
I love,
the way he thinks
the way he reaches out to me
and comforts me.
I like it,
when he’s far away,
Yet near me.
When he tries to cheer me up
From my little miseries
I hate,
that he’s far away
That I can’t touch him
Or see his face
Other than in my head.
I hate,
That I can’t hear his thoughts
Sewn in that beautiful voice
More often than this
And that I had to say goodbye,
Once Again.