My fingertips are lonesome,
Missing the feel of your hair.
It's my birthday..
And all I do is sit and stare,
From the edge of my bed
I am left without a wish or candle to blow
I have a future in front but nothing of hope.
Remembering the pain, and all of my loss
Your memory is my biggest ghost. .
Looking at my fingers..
A taught gives me shivers.
And soon enough I fall asleep.
In my dream.. I am in defeat.
My fingers are lost, drifting away
Making their path in your thick hair,
Searching for peace in the fantasy world,
Being lost in you it's all that they crave.
I might not have a wish
But my skin aches for you.
It wants to reconnect
... and there's nothing left to do.
©phantom
P