She is the beacon that entrusts warmth onto me,
and I stand the pillar of whatever holds balance to her life.
I call my heavens and she responds with a simple smile,
but an eternal mile gives lesser comfort than her words.
I've heard the loose lies slip through those lips of hers one
too many times and I have won more than I have loss in this
fair trade of tragedy. She is a volcano waiting for the ash
and the lava to erupt and bury me.
I am just the wind that carries along the embers
of whatever we used to remember and everything else
we wished to forget.

She is, just one ...
            that I can't forget,
that I really wish I didn't,
and really wish I did.