I used to live and die with every breath
you took from me those shattered days
I carved and bled in seas of deep regret
I am a flower withering from your decay.

I dreamt and dream each every night
of your bright and shining alien eyes,
of how they’re gazing, pass my slowing heart up high
and breeding all my hopeless, growing, selfish lies.

Your scent and smell they linger on
a memory, a chamber made of roses and of thorns
where I am waiting though I know that you are gone
with pain and loss, where all the sad and hateful angels mourn.

“I am the palace where your flowers grow
the stair that lift your steps towards the sun
and whatever happens, love, and all I know
is I will forever treasure all that we have done.”

Under gloomy rainy autumn skies
I walk the path of past and present ghosts
towards a place where, finally, your memory dies
along with all the dreams I treasured most.

Now in the chilling, icy winds
your hair and face are turned to stone
and oh, the pianos lovelorn hymns
are telling how I’ll love alone.