Pride is a devil but your wings say otherwise.
I have been black and have been golden.
It’s hard to judge which is which.
But now I’m neither good nor bad.
Windows into people’s souls are never clear glass.
The only thing transparent about you is your promises.
I’ve got your letters all in boxes, handwriting of a beautiful life.
Who am I to judge when my memories of you are in a grave?
Your actions sliced me up inside but your hands feel so nice.
I’m scared to be your friend again but I’ve grown a mountain’s spine.
Kissing turns to coughing, hopeful turns to helpless.
I was once a good girl. You were once a good boy.
Nobody ever remembers how the roses looked dying;
They remember them brilliant in a clear perfect vase.
For the past year, all I’ve had is those roses on my mind.
I’m right to be afraid, but instead I just feel freed.
Let this day ring inside my mind, I’m happy alone.