The Flavor Of Missing
I remember when the second best part of my days
was checking my emails
and finding one of your messages there.
The first was the moment I read it.
I remember when I used to became happy suddenly
just because MSN said you had just logged in.
I still remember everything.
And I miss every little thing.
I miss you.
I remember our long conversation at Serpentine's banks,
what a beautiful view, don't you think?
There was such a contrast between it and our political arguments, right?
I remember us walking down Piccadilly...
Did I mention those were my happiest hours?
Ah, how I miss you!