As I sit here, I think to myself,
Wondering if there’s a way for me to help.
You walk away, sadden and all,
Stopping in your tracks, you begin to fall.
My hand it holds the back of your head,
guiding you to and away from dread.
With every heartbeat there’s whispers and stares,
In all honestly, who the hell really cares.
Flowers and wine, a cold winter’s night,
Are all the things, you told me to fight.
From smiles and laughter, and wooden tables,
Our time together was nothing but fables.
As I sit here, I come out of this dream,
You’re walking towards me, could this be a dream?
Thanks for reading. Happy Friday!