Nostalgic Tears

Nostalgic Tears To never truly know the depth of the dark, Not wanting to sever the soul from the spark, I watch my world crumble and slowly start to burn, I sit and I stare, so comfortably numb. Not truly letting go of the stories we told, Waiting for a love that has grown distant and cold. A wasted devotion, a hollowed-out chime, Lost in the folds of our fragmented minds, Racing against forgotten time. Lost in sublimal space, In the back of your mind. I die a slow death in the search of us two, Just to get a quick glimpse of you, too. Not realizing our history was built upon sand, A waste of magic I gathered for you, Now seeping like ash through the palm of my hand. Into the arms of another you go, Forgetting the promises we shared and we spoke. Mending a garden from the lies that you told, Trying to fix what insolence broke. Shedding our history like skin on the floor, Stealing myself to walk out the door. I watch our love dissolve like salt in the rain, An alchemical sorrow, a transmutation of pain. I am being rewritten in a language of scars, Tracing our paths through cold, foreign stars.