When I look back on our pictures
To that one moment in my life when we were happy
When I was happy
I can’t breathe
For If I stop breathing, maybe, it will stop hurting
For a moment at least
If I stop hurting maybe I can move on
Form the past.. from your memory.. with my life
I can move on from the love that my heart does not want to let go
although my mind knows it should
my heart disagrees
you are my novel that I keep revisiting time and time again
when I am sad and alone
If I could somehow re-write our story and give it that happy ending
it so desperatley needs
I would be content,
or would I?
If I could distinguish the flame in my so-called heart I could
move on from this dream that has infected my mind,
a dream that you helped conjure up with an image of
perfection
Defined by a man that you led me to believe existed
A man that that I continue to beleive in time after time
only to get dissapointed
But I cant erase those tints
they were tainted for a reason
they are the characteristics of my so calle life
that make that picture unique
Our picture is an image that is best left alone
to be deemed as a reminder that.
some things are best left
without explanation
without rhyme
without reason
As I look back on those tints I now see
a full colored picture
a picture that I ignored
me!
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