You don't make me cry anymore.
When my mind glides by your amorous glow,
Our past no longer slows my rhythm.
You struck a chord, and our light diminished.
A musicians sword, cuts like a prism.
This prison I've put us in,
Is no longer fitting,
For rainbows arch too far from tradition,
And a white dress only fits on a ******.
It's urgent that,
I spell check my wording, cause
My inner workings are always flirting with
The idea of falling for you again.