But what do I do with the letters,
with the words that still hold all your love,
some days I just want to burn them,
and as the wind takes the ashes, rise above.

But others I sit and I read them,
and remember when you felt that way,
and breaks my heart when I read them,
because **** it I've got more to say
.
The letter I wrote you sits on my bedside,
I read it again every day,
because I'm haunted by the things have happened,
and by the things that I still need to say.