Beautiful creatures
haunt our past
they glide through our fingers
in memory mists
we are wanting to hold
but they tease our grips

If they could have seen the love that we had
and seen past their eyes of dream that went bad
they would still be here
as tangible as the sun
and waste some time before the day comes to an end

Beautiful things
cause the sadness to grow
the emptiness to show
our hope to dim

We learn by learning to die
leaving beautiful creatures behind
******* in the tears
as the years go by
knowing belonging is for another life not here
and faerie tales are only true far away from here
and when we are buried
we will be as hard as the earth that covers us