Ego was the monster that drove you from my arms or was it just another's charm.
It wasnt poetic simply one lights fade to yet another act in a much to dim lit sidewalk's scene.
If you go I wont care so many bitter words stand are refuge of pain togather we shared
it if only for a moment.
Maybe it was a nightmare made possible from a dream.
Maybe it was nothing more than a glimpse at what was never to be.
I closed that door now it seems a shame to view these scars yet once again.
Please dont ever let me leave you.
I recall you asked one of to many fargone nights embrace
I lie to say i could never recall.
Why did it seem like promises were empty as broken hearts games of the grown remain
evergreens of childs play.
Alone I allow you to invade my thoughts one last time.
Sunset from the shore always seemed empty just like are time togather.
Why must you haunt me still.
Watercolors fade still I recall that embrace.
Farewell my friend.
Pain is a burden to you no more.
Sometimes a turned shoulder is all thats left of a deadend street.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
Ego was the monster that drove you from my arms or was it just another's charm.
It wasnt poetic simply one lights fade to yet another act in a much to dim lit sidewalk's scene.
If you go I wont care so many bitter words stand are refuge of pain togather we shared
it if only for a moment.
Maybe it was a nightmare made possible from a dream.
Maybe it was nothing more than a glimpse at what was never to be.
I closed that door now it seems a shame to view these scars yet once again.
Please dont ever let me leave you.
I recall you asked one of to many fargone nights embrace
I lie to say i could never recall.
Why did it seem like promises were empty as broken hearts games of the grown remain
evergreens of childs play.
Alone I allow you to invade my thoughts one last time.
Sunset from the shore always seemed empty just like are time togather.
Why must you haunt me still.
Watercolors fade still I recall that embrace.
Farewell my friend.
Pain is a burden to you no more.
Sometimes a turned shoulder is all thats left of a deadend street.
Request permission to use this poem