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Marcus Henry Sep 2017
Thought about you again today, going over all the words I would like to have the chance to say
About how much you dearly mean to me, and of how sorry I am that my silence has pushed you away
though I know after it all you will just turn me down again, no matter how much I beg and plead, what’s done is done and no matter what I do it will never be as enough as it could have been that day..

It’s too late for this, we could have been that
but I ruined it and that is the fact
Now there’s nothing left to do but to move on or regret it all as the scene fades to black

The other day your name almost passed my lips, but I caught myself and shushed myself by zipping shut my mouth with my finger tips
Held back a tear I almost missed, because the feeling of you caused my heart to skip as if to trip
the last time we truly spoke I could tell all that was left of us was just a wisp, perhaps we could have built up from there, begin again but I’m not the type to take from another man what I wouldn’t want taken from my grip.
And so the only way to put it all is in trist

It’s too late for this, we could have been that
but I ruined it and that is the fact
Now there’s nothing left to do but to move on or regret it all as the scene fades to black

I don’t know what to say that I have not already put into words creatively from my head
though you deserve it all to be said everyday in everyway whether you read it or acknowledge verbally
You are you and that is why I try, yet I failed and in my fall someone else has prevailed and it hurts but for my fear that was the cost and so you dearie I have lost…

It’s too late for this, we could have been that
but I ruined it and that is the fact
Now there’s nothing left to do but to move on or regret it all as the scene fades to black
Marcus Henry May 2017
The depression sinks in, an unnatural daily blend
The type that warps from within, it puts the lotion on the skin.
The jealousy is kin, doubt being the yang to my yin
It's all a part of me, a breakdown waiting to begin.
Their love is all benign, I try but can't return in kind
Erratically unemotional, mentally fluctuating is my mind.
It's only a matter of time, before what little is left that binds
begins to steadily unwind, to become a frail tether leashing what lies within confined.

— The End —