One day I woke up To your hands pampering my back And your characteristic aroma floating around my bed sheets.

My coffee was a little colder From the early breeze of that Sunday morning And I swore, I could hear your voice Traveling with the wind.

That day I claimed my bitterness all to the fact That you weren’t there And you haven’t been Since November 23rd I thought only you had died But I guess now I’m dead too