It’s starting to look like
We won’t be the end game, baby.
I gave you a decade of my life,
And all I’m left with now
Are empty promises and sad moments.

Yet I don’t know how to walk away
From this sad song we have become.
You were my heart, and I, your lifeline—
How did we become these versions of ourselves?

The life we thought we’d live—
Shiny rings on our fingers,
White picket fences—
but i see them on my dreams now  turning into ashes

I know I held on to you too tight,
That I became a phantom on your skin.
Even as we’re letting go,
We’re leaving traces on each other.

What a shame.
Thought we were the end game.