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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required New Years Day You say she's the one for you And who am I to deny that's true? You live with the promise of her forever And certainly seem to forget our endeavor. Now my pen is quiet with gentle brush strokes no more of the fury no more of the fire, It's gone with the wind And no longer has desire. To write of the love that we had before To write the story of the slammed poisoned door. Slammed shut on our chances, slammed shut on our glances Across the room with a fiery stinr Like out love was crossed on some invisible string. So now we move on. We pretend that we're golden. Because now our hearts Have been shattered and chosen To move with the times, And settle in with our rhymes. On paper and in hell, We tell each other we wish you well. But none of those lies are ever really true. And each of the lines Are trapped in the blue. And so, we read in between our minds And we both know that we aren't really fine. Because love drips from each stroke and every other line. So we write and we give up A silent cry to the sky We try to reach and we try so damn hard to die. With each passing moment. For if we even for a second Did show it, I'd run back to you Without hesitation. And you know that's true, So you block your own mind The trains have now left all of the routes and diverted all the stations. Back to your mind And back to your love. I silently look to the heavens above. And wonder if you'll Treat her better than me. As heartbreak takes over my own sad reality. As I play back our times And craft them in rhymes. Because she is now me, I know without a thought That I'll be on your mind In all the answers you sought. So think of me while her hands trace your cheeks And think of me when I'm no longer in reach. Think of me when my touch lies like a ghost Forgotten On the wind Of your love And think of me when your mind traces her and her thighs. And when you have a spare moment now and then, let my thought in. Because this love we have chosen Is now quite our burden. And now the east wind Joins our hands as we scatter and cry At least we are looking up at the same grey sky.
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