Every city is a ghost town where
I see remnants of us that will never
fade because they'll never
see the light.
The streets remember our footprints,
maps made in sand and snow,
where we walked,
side by side.
The things we told eachother,
piece by piece,
as it comes back now, revisiting
I stopped searching for our missing ending.
There are no dry winds carrying
torn pagesdown abandoned roads,
fluttering, caughton telephone
poles, waiting to be foundand read aloud.
Even if I, alone,
returned to those streets, deceased,
I'd be choked by theashes of
long-combusted paper dreams.
You are being immortalized as I speak,
not just in words, but a reality I live in
my sleep.
Last night, I dreamt you followed me.
I can feel you always close, sometimes
a day ahead, or two behind, hunting down
a similar night, different from the next.
I can still hear your voice in air currents
you've since left and I've just found
I told you to never try and find me,
But how can I ask memories to leave?
They just come and go as they please.
And even if I wrote a thousand songs,
No one will ever know what you've done to me.
They'll hear it echoing,
or see the delicate skin shed from a body still evolving,
ghosts of emotions lost and unable to give up,
a carcass of a parasite that left one final
scar before it was cast from its host.
We're not bound by ties,
but inescapably intertwined in each other's lives.
Your love was glass cut like a diamond, but I
have discovered a truer fortune.
I take pity on your greed because you will never
regain the wealth you lost in me.
What did I do to you to deserve this?
And even as I immortalize you with my words, I
know you don't deserve this
