A jacket I used to keep her warm,
clothes that I have worn,
too many in a box,
sitting at her house with locks,
I sent the message,
**** it I tried.

I said marry me,
in sly tones and a sense of decency,
she said I was drunk and needed a nights rest,
so I said she out of all my friends was best,
eating pancakes she had to go,
I'll sit here and watch the snow,
I hate this show,
my life and every song,
so I texted her and asked, "why does it feel so wrong?"
no one has an answer because they feel it too,
I guess I'll see it,
when the snow falls anew.

Who deems a life a tragedy,
God or The Poet.

A criss cross,
forever remembering and always forgetting what we loss,
a forever skating of our lives,
a distant memory of a lie,
the strings that twist our lives and hearts,
we look back to the pages that are blanked,
we look back with a panic,
and people call us manic,
"just move on" they say with a sly tone,
but they don't realize,
is we want them to answer their ******* phone,
I'll flip the pages to read tomorrow,
because I pray there is less sorrow

She is gone,
I should have stayed with the song,
but i couldn't love so long ago,
now I hear ******* and go,
why do networks exist?
if not to feel bad for our sins o' list?
I am falling asleep to your picture,
but like a useless lecture,
you will ignore it,
so **** this ****,
I'll send messages saying I am sorry,
but I would have better luck turning air into gold in a quarry,
a simple line,
that my life depends on the line,
it's ok

I loved that smile,
no one inside,
inside is beckoning.