Why have our lips been cold,
and kisses taste like stale coke?

Why has our skin not changed,
but the touch has got so rough?

Why are our eyes the same,
but the irides have turned dark?

Why do we stop playing games,
holding hands, walking in the park?

Why are our sweet letters gone,
and spoken words have become rare?

Why do you still stay with me,
when you want to be elsewhere?

Why can't we fall out of love
the way that we fell in?

The silence hanging above
put us in love's coffin.

*I wish you would tell me
about someone you met.

Things you once did for me,
now make her cheeks turn red.