Why is it that my loss has to be your gain?
Like it no longer mattered to feel blissful dopamine but rather a sinful ecstasy,
Why are your words no longer my moon and stars, but now my whiskey and tears?
the glaze in my eyes prove I’m no longer sane,
Words like aloe now begin to cloud my brain,
confident in only my confusion while no solution,
presents itself with wings that are probably sprained,
in the melodies, we created a symphony,
that has sadly weakened to a flute, and I would try again,
if our pianissimo didn’t translate to mute,
so I will bid my farewells with a tear in my eye,
As I remember our bond for the very last time,
A lifetime polluted by the hands of an ungrateful brute,
goodbye forever, my forbidden fruit.