I always fix the broken windows of our house
3 years old and still working well
Aged with memories and beautiful pieces
The walls a deep, rich colour, which represents the strong bond
That we used to have.
I'm so tired, so tired to be the working man
To keep oiling the hinges of the door,
to keep throwing out the trash
And admitting that I soiled the floor when I did not.
Because I didn't want you to take the blame.
The wind wails loudly at night and a storm brewed, far away
I didn't want you to be scared, so I huddled up near you
And kept you warm.
I'm glad you did the same and wrapped a thicker blanket around me
And we slept, snug and happy.
I was thinking, what would I do?
If I didn't have a good friend like you.
But someone else came and took my place,
or rather, took away
Or actually, mess up the fabric of our blanket I took so long mending over and over again.
I remember that night when it rained real bad and the rain poured in,
wetting your side of the bed. I gently lifted you to my side and slept on the cold wet side, because I wanted you to have a warm, toasty sleep.
I totally thought you and I could sleep well together and that even though,
sometimes, you liked the neighbour's cookies next door, you would still be there.
You would still hug me tight and wrap me around in those thick blankets.
And we'd fall asleep together, like always.
Finally, I can't take it anymore. I'm tired, really tired.
I've been fixing the leaks and rusty door hinges all around the house for too long.
Maybe it's time to take a break.
Maybe it's time to finally leave and I don't even want to care anymore.
Maybe it's time you sleep alone and for me to say goodbye, to this house and to you
forever.