Under the sky, so bright with hope

a phone held tight ot my ear

Seeing that which only my eyes would fathom,

I yearn to be there.

Currently wishing away the nights

under the waxing moon.

As the one travels on,

as if the moon pulled him along.

His torrid love affiar with the night,

left me alone

to wonder where I belong,

and to cry those tears all too soon

for it's not over until you die;

but you can't die

if you never really lived.