I'm a book that's left with no shelf.
With just shabby stories to tell.
There's a you-shaped void in my life.
What once felt heaven, is now hell.

I'm an empty frame that has no wall,
There's a number I have but can't call.
Whatever you left just reminds me that,
You've left and I'm left with it all.

They say "Time heals all wounds",
Why the hell is it taking so long?
Sinking deep into homesick afternoons,
It's "You" where I've always belonged.

Now I'm left with doleful...