It might just be a token
But I am not yet broken
It might just be a blessing
But I still hear church bells ringing
It might be a small thing
But I still remember how to sing
It might be something big
If I can still light a candle stick
I might find the light
That gives sight
Then I have to say
It's more then a token
that I am not broken.

I am always wrong,
I say things that I don't mean.
*I do not love you.

The ghost you left
a simple suggestion
of memory

And here I am
on my knees
left in pieces

Pictures scattered
Scrawled thoughts
on torn papers

and they beg to burn
but yet
I sit here still and yearn

Come back to me