When the colors starts to fade
when the birds stop their singing
when the rose dies
when my stay is over
let my poems live with you forever.

For the wound is now a scar
a remnant of the past
something to forgive,
something to forget or maybe remember...something to live with, something to learn from.

Tears have dried, pain has gone, heart is numb... can't stop pretending, something has turned into nothing.