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.