Goodnight

I don't feel your pulse
through the phone.
I can't feel your life or health.
You're not really there,
and I think, rethink,
why disappear?

She just can't lend her arm full of stitches
and let me cure your heart from bitter disease
like when she first learned to trust me.

So the days of raisins fall from the sky,
and I pray to God, one single grape
to touch her lips
so we can return to our sweetness of dream.