The words escaping my tongue were running slow,
the black ink in my pen was running out.
My words belittled me to a point of all time low,
my slipshod writing covered pages, intense emotions
were what they were all about.
No more bright, teary, golden moments anymore,
nothing with you; they were useless anyway.
The muscles of my arm had been turning sore,
your lime eyes were laughing harder than before.
Remember the darkness smiled, concealed as the night,
with twinkles of good will with weaker might.
Was time standing too long? Or did I turn away in search of someone?
Was I waiting too long to see you?
It's always for the best. Or what if not for anything?
Time is a twister, twirling events and spitting out ideas.
Maybe I deserve to have rights taken away from me.
No more hours will be lost on the telephone,
I knew it would end eventually.
Chances slipped away, like sound in an hourglass.
Like running water, my chances would not last.