My pillow is now stained with tears of regret,
of the unspoken words, to the one who left.
I remember the moments, the kisses, the passion,
wearing my heart on my sleeve like a new trendy fashion.
My love for you, was nothing of sport,
but so seemingly easy for you to abort.
Where are you now? How far did you travel?
In your absence, my world starts to unravel.
From the unspoken words to the one who left,
my pillow is now stained with tears of regret.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 1:30 PM UTC
My pillow is now stained with tears of regret,
of the unspoken words, to the one who left.
I remember the moments, the kisses, the passion,
wearing my heart on my sleeve like a new trendy fashion.
My love for you, was nothing of sport,
but so seemingly easy for you to abort.
Where are you now? How far did you travel?
In your absence, my world starts to unravel.
From the unspoken words to the one who left,
my pillow is now stained with tears of regret.
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