sincerely

dix-huit

dead roses

-

forgotten nights, days spent alone. the only words spoken are said over the phone.

we talked of dreams, we were idle teens, and now words of sentiment are words we don't mean.

we meant so much to one another, to you a sister, to me a brother.

now, that love is dead and gone. we're more like siblings that don't get along.

i want to make it up to you again, seeing as you were my only friend.

you'd never let me even if i begged; i don't think i could love you again.

i never knew you had a sweet side, you never were the compassionate kind.

you loved me but i think you've forgotten it, because you only cared for me on accident.

i never did love you "like that", and i think that's why you were mad.

you wanted more but i put it to an end, and after that you didn't want to be my friend.

fear was the only thing in my mind. you gave me roses, and i let them die.

now we sit, both of us alone, each of us in our loveless homes.

you read a book while i write one about you. pages of eloquence, but you don't have a clue.

i wonder what you'd think of me, if you learned i wrote shit poetry.

you always seemed to hate the way i was never sad during the day.

no, my sadness came at night, and you would smile out of spite.

well, you got rid of your dark side. i wish there was a way for me to ditch mine.