Twas' on the day you left that I swore,
I will miss you without saying a word,
I will listen to our old songs, but not sing along to your favorite lines.

I will haunt our old haunts, and keep all our old keepsakes,
But I will not, can not, take pleasure in them.

Our old haunts are now empty and cold,
The keepsakes are just objects, not gold.
Without you, they're shadows of what once was,
Like faded photographs, covered in dust.

Color has bled from our old conversations, Yet I rehash them and don't let them depart
And faded memories still warm me on nights when I feel sick at heart.
Without you, my world grows colder. ...