I shut you out of my life as a last effort,

Some sort of dead man’s hand,

Now we don’t speak,

Now I  write all the things I wish I could say to you here,

And hope maybe, you’ll see them,

And maybe you’ll read them in my voice,

And for just a second,

I’ll occupy your thoughts,

And you’ll think back to all the good times,

The way I do so often.