I always get it wrong
Make the wrong decisions
Stay a bit too long
Now my past is made up of
No more than
Dead yellow roses
The ones you used to bring me
Which over time decayed
And died.
Dead Yellow Roses
As dead as the two of us
A memory of a smile
The imprint of your body
Lying next to me
A necessary band aid
Needing to be ripped off
My heart is numb, cold to the core
It feels black
Infected with your anguish
As I said it down the phone.
You were a million miles away
I couldn’t wait
And with that unexpected call
I panicked
And told you
All that I wanted to save
For when you were back home
And not alone.
You can say what you want
To your friends
Take the time you need to heal
Hate me
Curse me
Say what you want
I’ll take this bouquet
Of the past
And let it burn.
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