Your Turn

Think about what we've lost.
And everything that is gone.
What about what is left?
Do you miss this at all?
Do you miss me at all.

Dirty floors what shirts.
On our backs let them burn;
Old love letter with the candle from the sill.
Do you miss this at all?

The moon, my friend, has said "Goodnight,"
"It's getting late I'm only stealing the suns light,"
"Just let her go, I do, every night."
"Does this sound like you at all?"
Do you miss me at all?

I miss you. I said it, it's your turn.