To dwindle
is to linger,

Crying out
is to crack a
finger.

I enjoy the quiet,
it's my lonesome,
it is my only
friend.

The rush of wind
as I breathe in.

I exhale you,
and all the
bad things
you like to do.

I'm not one
to judge for a past,
so I won't
fight back.

You came,
you saw,
you left your mark.

But to be
fooled by a fool
is to still care
and always be
there.

You're a friend
of a friend,
and I'm the
third friend.
How does it feel
when the one
you took for granted
doesn't see all
that enchantment?

To ask you
is to be burdening,
for the whispers of
'just try, you never
know'

To play with
ones heart and
well intentions
is the only crime
I can forsee.

To the past
it is a lesson
To the present
you are not
a blessing.