I read old letters hoping to take in the love of the past.
It's like eating stale bread in war times hoping it's enough to fill that roars into the light and dark.
It's leftover love yet I devour it hoping it heals my broken-heart.
I read old letters yet there was a time where the letters sustained hope in me.
It's leftover love and the more I read of the past, the more it breaks my heart.
It's leftover love and it no longer brings me hope yet I devour it to revive what is left of my heart.