The red sign has caught up—
I've decided I've had enough.
The rain is no longer a drizzle;
It's soaking me, leaving me brittle.
I've tried to show you what to do,
But my words don't make it through.
You speak of love set to bloom,
Yet silence fills up the room.
Not with whispers, calm and kind—
But with pieces you've left behind.
They aren't softly spoken,
They're silent and broken.
I wish things turned out right
But love can't bloom without light
I'll miss the "us" we used to try—
But still, I leave. This is goodbye.
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 5:02 PM UTC
The red sign has caught up—
I've decided I've had enough.
The rain is no longer a drizzle;
It's soaking me, leaving me brittle.
I've tried to show you what to do,
But my words don't make it through.
You speak of love set to bloom,
Yet silence fills up the room.
Not with whispers, calm and kind—
But with pieces you've left behind.
They aren't softly spoken,
They're silent and broken.
I wish things turned out right
But love can't bloom without light
I'll miss the "us" we used to try—
But still, I leave. This is goodbye.
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