Maybe if I write a poem I can pour this out of me
Maybe I can find the answers as to why you left me
It was sudden, it came with no warning, yet came it did
As I write this, my hands shake and I am racking my head
Trying to find a mistake, where I went wrong
The echo of your voice fills the silence with noise
I want to listen, I want to hear it again... But it´s gone...
...You saw to that
...You cut that lifeline with a sword
...Dead and gone, with nothing but a touch
And my head tries to fill the void
Hallucinations, whispers and specters
Ghosts, mirages and flashes
Nothing but party tricks
Pale imitations of what was and could be
The promise of something beatiful
Now a corpse, killed not by your hand...
But the mistakes guided by mine...