Lonely Walks

We dance the night away. Separately - what we had wasn't meant to be. A fallen star in our own misery. She sold her soul my heart turned cold. A menace in the fabric of Father Time. What once was mine was sold for a pack of matches and a dime. The paper is worn thin, I can't even read what once was written. The night is calm and pleasant but these that are present. Are becoming quite a menace.