Let us leave for foreign places
Away from this city of boringly beautiful faces

For ash filled cobbled stone streets
Fields of blooded roses and golden wheat

Castles cemented in antiquity
Crumbling walls of barren cities

Abandoned cathedrals of a bygone era
Smoke filled bordello backrooms with mirrors smudged by mascara

Let us leave before the hours turn late
And I have wasted my life awaiting fate

But I grow old
And warm dreams turn cold

How stunning you look tonight
How badly I want to tell you these words I write

My love is an antique

It grows old and gains rust
Sitting on a shelf, idly gathering dust

It withers and decays
Slowly trading it's vibrant color for grey

But it will not die
It stands; crumbling before your eyes

It loses it's strength, but never it's essence
Existing for you in eternal evanescence

I hope she has your hazel eyes
That glisten with wonder under the moon and the night sky

I hope she has your smile
That makes all the tears seem worthwhile

I hope she has all your dreams and your aspirations
And that when I’m with her I feel a familiar sensation

I hope she tastes like cherry cola against my lips
And that it feels like I’m holding the world in my palms when my hands are on her hips

I hope she isn’t afraid of anything except loneliness and the dark
And is a perfect reflection of you, down to every curve and birthmark

Because I know you’ll never again say you love me too
So, I’m willing to settle for someone else, if they’re just like you