Not dead,
yet slowly dying.
But you can't fault me
or blame me
for trying.
And I'd be lying:
if I said I didn't miss her,
Or that I didn't want to kiss her
again.
But it's too late for that now.
Too much sorrow.
Too much pain.
She gets on fine without me
so why can't I do the same?

I don't know.
And doubt I'll ever.
It went by so fast,
when we were together.
Now I'm stuck here,
alone,
in the cold rainy weather.
Wondering whether
you even think of me at all.
If you're feeling as I feel
or you're standing up tall.
I wonder a lot.
Wondering if I should call
only to be put on hold.
All my life I've waited
and now
I've already grown
far too old.

I remember now why I forget.
Killing me slowly
like smoke from your cigarette.
Filling me from the inside.
Invading me
poisoning me.
A little mistress of death
I wish I had never met.