Unfinished

It's a crazy wicked feeling
those days when you're not there
and I'm left holding nothing
but memories and air

It's an empty kind of heartache
because I know this is our choice
but it's a desperate kind of panic
when I can't hear your voice

There's a dulling kind of calm
a sort of haze or stupor way
I wrap myself in nothing
just to make it through the day