Holding your hand

Sour like lemons

Like holding broken glass

To think about it

is to contort in pain

Shrill like a baby's cry

Loneliness, no that is you

You are a void, empty

Like ink of a pen

Letters, destroyed

knowing how you truly felt

Like metal slicing skin

Loneliness, there's that word again

I feel lonely but you can't fix that

Like a candle snuffed out by the wind

Cold, that's me

But you are warm

And I cannot stand to be near you

Your speech

Like drinking warm lemonade

Too sweet, no substance

Your words

Like The sun

Too bright to see beauty

Your actions

Like A butterfly

Two pictures deceiving the other

Your apologies

Like clouds

Empty and frantic

Being near you

Sickly like lemonade

Like being lit on fire