For one last time, the sun sets on the stacks of notes, dreams and piles of unfinished business
And one last time we'll put down what we're asked on a lonely piece of paper
For after that we all change and we stop the old habits forever

As we walk through the memories, faded behind glass
It takes just a moment to go back now, but soon we'll forget
And all we'll know is how it made us feel, the euphoria within

What I'm trying to say is,

Would you stop to thank yourself?
If i took your hand and brought you here.
To see how far you've come and what you've done
Would it blossom in your heart, like it does in mine?

To hope is to forgive, and to let go is to learn
And to be hurt and to be picked up again is to stand up for ourselves
One last time before the Sun sets
Would you take my hand and reminisce in what will become the foggy past?

And we're a bit far apart in minds and hearts
But this one room seems to blend us into one
To remind us of the flesh and bone we all share
And the pain that we bear, all together still
That we'll soon have to take back, heavier than we gave it away

What I'm trying to say is,

Would you stop to smile for a moment
If i took your hand and brought you here
To feel the uncertain envelop us silently
Would you do it, but even if you turn away
If i could tell you one thing: don't let this be crushed to dust,
Don't forget the last of us.

Do I see the tree

or do I just remember --


the image of it?

There is still an echo similar to a giggle.

So far away that heart can barely feel them and the mind can barely touch them. So faded away in the fog of despair, I embarked on a journey while floating on the waves of my memory.

Laughter so dying,

Residing in the corner of a decaying reminiscence.

Laughter so dying,

Erasing from the brain like a remembrance of a bird passing by.

Laughter so dying,

Sinking in the depths of hopelessness.

Laughter so dying,

Misery feeds upon contentment and serenity is overwhelmed by emptiness.

Laughter so dying,

It stays in our chest forever, slowly building a house, now called grief, that once was home to decaying laughter.

The memory of
that night on
the pier, when
we scrawled our
names onto the floor
with a pocketknife,
and dreamed of when
we might show
our children,
but the children we
never had will
never know,
and the scratches
on the wood will
fade, stepped on
by countless people
who will never know of
our love.

An old telephone
hangs unused on the wall
What voices it heard
as people made their calls
fade into the ether
scattered electrons all

Dashes to dashes
dots to dots
All those things once said
now forever lost