I’m addicted to see your hair on the comb, on the sheets.
Addicted to shouting your name asking you to hurry up.
Addicted to the bathroom smelling all lime and peach.
Addicted to the warmth which no one else can give me.
Addicted to your love which made all my pains worthy.

Now I wake up to the unruffled sheets and white pillows. Empty rooms sob with me as I walk into them. Every gulp of this Starbucks coffee makes me crave your bitter one. My trembling hands at this falling age search for those small hands which disappeared inside mine.
I want to be young again and believe in miracles. Can you jump of this picture and smile at me once more?

The old man mumbled away into his abyss.