the streets we used to walk have
grown tired of our weary legs.
let be known, my hands have been
held by a fond memory, now.

the trees we used to lay under
(ponder, ponder)
are now filled with age
and dying souls.
the wind does no such
to help our past-

bed, couches, and floors we have shared
have been tarnished and worn,
wrecked and thrown aside.

the frames that hold our smiles
are being devoured by dust
and tantrums.
know,
my dearly departed-
you have yet to escape my veins.