I took the letters of the words you said
to write the stories of my days ahead,
I layed unconscious, yet aware
of arrows aiming at my bed.
I had a longing for a scent I loved,
but would love further to forget,
I had a need for days to change
into days we had not met.
My flattered ego was lacking roots,
your empty silence speaking truth,
I asked for days to bring me news,
and sat as time outran my youth.