The beginning of the end,
A brief moment of happiness
On a freshly stretched canvas
Then Gone with the blowing wind,
without track or trace,
just like the rest
Like fine sand, through my fingers
Away the one slips  
Our bridge burns down to ashes
Then the heart crashes
A journal spreads open
Begs to get touched
In sorrowed cries and swollen eyes
The ink rhymes
Then the soul dies
The end

4:45 am