I am nothing more than a tear stain on a pillow case,
and you are nothing more than a dated picture in a box under my bed.
what once was a reason to live
is now a reason to go,
a reminder of what things once were but won't be again for a long, long time,
perhaps ever.
I was nothing more than the beat of your heart,
and you were nothing more than the breath in my lungs.
what once was so lonely
was now something so rare,
a reminder of what could be as long as we stayed.
but we weren't what we needed,
and our attention strayed.
yours, to a girl on the street,
and mine, to a dark place deep inside,
you slipped into her
and I lost my mind.
now,
I am nothing more than a blood splatter on a white pillow case,
and you are nothing more than a picture perfect glimpse at happiness.
what once was so fragile
is now in pieces on the floor,
a reminder that you'll never know what happens behind the door.
@
