Over

These things are over,
dead in the past,
no secret lover,
nor sailed the mast.

I regret somethings,
and miss things too,
when it rings,
I think not of you.

Never again shall I return,
to the ways of old I once knew,
Inside me the old passion burn,
Never will I turn from You.

No piece of steel,
nor drop of blood,
shall disrupt my meal,
with the Son.

The scars remain,
but fading fast,
of the pain,
held in the past.