if someday you pass by

do not be amazed to see

the remnants of yourself

in the plaster peeling off

the once humid walls

and in the little flowers

witherin' in a cracked vase

placed on the window sill

behind the net curtains

or softly pressed between

the yellow pages of books

scattered on my small bed

for no one has been here

since the day you left me

i wake up in the embrace

of soft, undying sadness

to light up the fire so cold

until the hiss of the kettle

calls me to pour the tea

in my oversized red mug

while shoreline gold one

that once belonged to you

is placed ever too empty

in the old wooden cabinet

back in our pretty kitchen

once bathed with summer

for no one has been here

since the day you left me

my bent over silhouette

hits the typewriter keys

a little too hard because

the fog on my spectacles

painted by a delicate trail

of steam escaping my mug

doesn't let me see anythin'

while this broken record

by that parisian printer

tries way too hard to play

the mixtape you gave me

last year, on my birthday

for no one has been here

since the day you left me

your memories seep into

the cracks in dusty walls

and leak through crevices

of the crumpled bedsheets

to mold into a sad shadow

that traipses barefooted

in a lone sunlit corridor

an ancient dawn in its eyes

which reminds me of you

so when the sun sets down

i wait for your footsteps

and a knock on the door

for no one has been here

since the day you left me

oh my sweet, li'l darling..

if, someday, by mistake,

you cross the lost threshold

of my long forgotten home

and colour this musty air

with your light fragrance

i will dance and celebrate

the story of my ruination

with you as your devotee

until i die in your warmth

'cause it has been too cold

despite the hot sugared tea

that i take every morning

for no one has been here

since the day you left me