move on
is not easy
but trust me
you can go through it
because everything
happens for a reason
a reason to make you braver
to see the future.

I did not beg to be loved by you
Your affection itch every ounce of me
I'll do well knowing that I'm not yours
Gracious omen it would spell for me

You will do well to keep your distance
I do not wish to come across your footprints
Even if it's the only way in the world
I rather stay here and burn cold like ghost

I don't see us sharing the same fate
There is nothing in the future you propose
I see me standing alone, there is no you, no us
Just the distance between us and the fog ahead

Roses  are red
So they always, have been
A love like ours
Is living in sin

Kisses under
The pale street light
A broken promise
To stay together
Till the end of time

I told her, I loved her
With a tear filled eye.
I told her I needed her,
All she could say was, goodbye.

Roses are red
Our love is dead

Walk away, in the pouring rain
My heart now of blue
Filled with all pain

Once the earth kissed the sky, then separated day from night, only to cause a rain storm from our heavens eyes.

Thunder and lightning
made our hearts collide
Bringing the once calm sea
To a roaring tide

Pulling our once love
Under the waves
Where it has died.

Tossed into the muddy reservoir of bad choices.
You are the words coming back to haunt me.
You are those voices.
I am all the times you thought you knew better;
I am the constant reminders.
I am the torn up love-letter.

The unread magazines that hide your drawings.
The bitter, black coffee
that picks me up in the mornings.
The way the sun comes out earlier this time of year;
And how the rain comes and hides, and obscures
the tears.
The hello's and goodbye's,
forced
and insincere.
And the voice that whispers:
"It's alright,
have no fear."
And the other voice that whispers other things
I'd rather not hear.

I am all the decisions you wish you hadn't made.
You are every note,
out of tune
or misplayed.
You are the soundless symphony;
the forgotten serenade.

You are the one I haven't met yet.
The rising of the moon
and the falling of the sun set.

I am the poems never read,
and the songs never sang.
I am door never opened;
the telephone that never rang.

We were the story never told,
and the feelings never shared.
The ones that didn't live to ever grow old.
The empty box, written with the words
"Handle with care."