Do not try to remember the tales of how we met or ended
I was there when the fiery passion of our broken souls burned the city to ashes
you will always try to find your way back to me, in old dusty books,
in the signs on the street, in our songs that seem so lost to me now.
You were like a mirage in disguise, alarmingly enlightening.
I am spirling in a maze, a labyrinth, I'm getting dizzy going round and round through the same old thing.
I remain still not wanting to remember the feeling, of being with you
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 4:29 PM UTC
Do not try to remember the tales of how we met or ended
I was there when the fiery passion of our broken souls burned the city to ashes
you will always try to find your way back to me, in old dusty books,
in the signs on the street, in our songs that seem so lost to me now.
You were like a mirage in disguise, alarmingly enlightening.
I am spirling in a maze, a labyrinth, I'm getting dizzy going round and round through the same old thing.
I remain still not wanting to remember the feeling, of being with you
