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Past is a poem And I dared to write Again to the winter mornings Filled with thin blue lies
Flashing lights on empty roads Where we held hands behind your coat Like the sunset, red paint crept on my skin When your name was sparked in
And now I know you taste like past So the conversations have turned sour But now we have passed the rillet of dreams That brought us together to tear us apart
And you wrote a hundred letters To break me like a promise How ruthless could you be In a way of being honest
Now I have lost myself again When you faded like a scar Burning in flames And now I have learned You weren't my forever but Just to be remembered forever
Happy past to you, love Happy past to me That burns inside of us.
A/n; not proud of this at all, someone asked me to write a poem and gave the first two lines as the starting of it. I failed pretty badly.
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