Postcard

I would send an empty postcard
To the place you used to live
On the back I wouldn't tell you
How I'm getting used to this
And I think about you always
But I don't know how to give
Away the thoughts I'm housing
With words and sentences

You are autumn, you are evenings
You're a touch of vertigo
At first sight, you're deceiving
And you test my self control
I would send an empty postcard
If you'd send it back to me
There is nothing more I'd like to know
Than what you're thinking

You are summer, you are daylight
And you've got me in a twist
You're a silhouette of comfort
Of which I can't resist
I would write until the ink ran out
Of every pen I own
If I could write enough to make up
For the things I owe