I let you go,
as if you were a thorn on my rose,
in hopes of a dream,
that you wouldn't end up bleeding
all of my love to a sense of unveiling.
A shameful secret, a lover's dying history,
you are the bullet in my pistol,
saving lives, and yet destroying mine.
i only wish that you would come with me,
to the past we would go,
living life's unexpected tolls.
oh what a story we'd live and share through our eyes,
yet now a faded dream forced to end inside,
only kept bittersweetly alive
to be dreamt by you and me at night...
