Maybe now, that the wasted days have
almost died and with little time left to sigh
away the lazy days that are here and now,
the waiting over and the present passing by
I can leave the thoughts of you in the past,
bottled up and buried, under ground.
No sight to remind me of how good you looked
and the history left to die silently, no sound
of the voices to tell me how you're doing now.
Maybe now, miles as well as minds apart
I can forget you exist, file you are being extinct.
Until summer, when some rediscovering will start
As no more than friends this time, some good
grasped from months filled full of mistakes made
through pride and greed, the sores of summer healed
as another place helps the thoughts of you fade
into some blurred picture, the background in the past.
Last orders at the bar has finally been rang,
the final drink knocked back too quickly to enjoy
as this flame is blown out without the final bang
of cross words or anger, but a boredom so
benign that no body neither knew nor cared,
the final high so low that nobody saw,
the climax poor compared to what others shared.
Our tongues which wasted words and time
seeing our lies for nothing more
than a season of hurting. Maybe now,
the result an eventual end. Finally. Sure.