I Don’t Know Where to Look

Waiting behind your blue chair,
the ghost of you joins me in a graffiti storm of grief,
and I try to pretend that I never cared.
Waiting behind your blue chair,
what we have lost there I don’t dare
try to discern, watching one after another falling leaf.
Waiting behind your blue chair,
the ghost of you joins me, a graffiti storm of grief.