I know it.
I believe it.
I see it.
I was the last time you ever been loved seriously.

All those travelling through have yet to come close to measuring up.
Yes, I were your last best love.

I believe it.
I know it.
I see it.

Your slight smile of disgust doesn't hide your wants.
Its just a cover up to disguise your humility inside.
That you're not happy with your present love.

I see it.
I believe it.
I know it.

But if there is ever a renewal you're seeking.
Then here again I stand to be your man again.
Cause in my mind I was the best choice for you.

Open the door into an avenue
Where words are formed
And fall onto the page
Black is the ink
That scars the writing
Facile is the thought
That is sent to offer
Stalled  is the sentence
All is not first in thought
Supercilious is the adjective
That threatens the poems simplicity

I write in the dark
I write in the light
A search for a synthetic twilight