How should I feel? How do I feel?
Did I reject my-self or my-self rejected me?
Where do I go now, what can I see?
Will I ever find you again, where should you be?
I question my-self why it happened to me?
Why me again, and again, but not you?
Was it love or more of a passion?
Was I the only one or there was a plenty?
I miss your smile and your silly accent.
I miss You. I miss you tired and early in the morning.
I miss you every evening and during the day.
Will I ever forget you, or will you loose me first?
Will I dance or sing with you?
Could we go on a boat trip, or fool all around.
Would you notice me sad and lonely, with who you'd be.
Did I changed a lot before I left you?
Did I come back the same or different?
Do I kiss good, do I hug enough,
Do I have the guts, to share my love with you.
If there's plenty of you, why am I stressed.
If there's plenty of me, that's why I'm stressed.
I will feel your skin, I will remember your smell,
Your gentle kisses on my neck,
They still linger there, and they will.
Your soft touch, your acted innocence,
Your health, tenderness and warmth.
I will have plenty of room for you,
Like I always did.
