We keep playing the same game and doing this old dance.
Is it me who should change the pace and give this a chance?


Paint me a picture of the "what could've beens",
as I ignore my surroundings and try not to wince.


I miss that familiar touch that has never been there,
as I trace the imagined kisses and pretend that you care.


My glasses are dented but I refuse to fix it
so I roam around a dark room that I thought was lit.


I heard music from the other room,
wishing to be a part of the celebration,
but the party never started it was just an illusion.


There's a banging on the door and I hoped it was salvation,
but when I opened it, what surprised me was brutal retribution.


I was soaked in the acid of truth and freedom
and was reborn in the collapse of my heart's kingdom.


What I thought was a love story is now my eulogy
I'll give my thank yous and goodbyes but never my apology.