Your sentiment's not welcome
because this is my lonely box.
A room of gold has faded
the walls dampen, peel, rot.
The cracks are getting larger
and the floors are creaking,
shrinking in these cold days.
But I know my room of neglect.
It used to look so different,
when I used to share this room with you.
It was beautiful, it was warm,
it was everything we dreamt of.
It was just for us. To share together.
But then one day you left - well,
you never really did. Because the ghost
yes, the ghost of you, resides in my lonely space.
The photographs of our love
rest upon the fireplace. The place
"where the flame will never go out",
extinguished by a few tears I shed.
And it seems it's made the room colder
and the break in the middle doesn't help
and the ghost of you, just waits around
watching this room fall apart.
