Let me tell you about the day I felt my breath slip away,
I mean, I might as well now,
I said it all anyhow.

How strange that you look for traces of you,
When words that some thought were meant for them,
Were solely written for you instead,

Hidden away, between the lines
Just like you, on the inside

Why speak, when it only makes me feel so weak,

Why seek, when I know you are already lost to me?

So hard to see that brown in black and white,
Plaid and brown buttons, if I remember right,
But no such photos of then remain to be seen,
I make them out of memories,

But how quickly my wind left,
When I saw that hand on your treble clef,
A passionate kiss that I knew I would give,
Instead I tasted regret as long as I lived.