Mine eyes are clouded with older days
Before I fell, before I bled
Lust and cigarettes greet my hands now. Willingly enough.
My senses are failing, as is my brain
So I can't seem to remember what all this is for,
I wish I had smiled in our picture
So maybe you would have never known of the poems behind these clouds.
Open my mouth and breathe in the words of those unknown and forgotten.
Whisper them in the ear of something that was supposed to die with winter’s end.
Though it’s April now, there is no spring. Grey morning follows empty night, caught somewhere in limbo
But spring shall come yet. It always does.