this place we called home is now my cage that I’ll never get clean, the stain and the sorrow hang heavy on the air and I’m sick of breathing you in,
There’s a little piece of you in all that I do and every time i open my wallet in which I stored your photo all I see is that it left imprinted a perfect impression of a faded memory,
A perfect metaphor or an impractical remainder of the days that are passing, days that are slowly becoming harder to articulate the feelings that once weighed me down,
The vividness of yesterday contrasted with the dullness of tomorrow, the inspiration that has fuelled me slowly burning up, We were a meteorite that we once thought would destroy the earth that has become just another pebble on the beach.
You wondered why you sat on the shore staring out longingly to the sea, upon infinite memories of everyone that once burnt bright before one day returning to the sea.