You don't want to see the future, except the one inside your head you created for yourself
You paint a pretty picture of your dreams, guided by the numbers on the canvas all laid out
You tell me that you're happy, contented with the life you expected to have lived up till now
You tell me things can't get much better, always picking up the pieces, making sure they fit together
I see the darkness in your eyes; in each hollow, empty room a part of me dies
I search them fruitlessly for that familiar, golden ray of light just to know you're still alive
I used to be the sun shining in your world, warm on your opalescent skin
I was the wind blowing your hair, giving you life each time you breathed me in