Pluie d'avril

 

is this what they called the end?

my lonely only friend?

everyday i become more confused

more numbling with less to lose.

epitaphed from my heart feared

wondering what was i missing,

was your lips taste of tears

or was i lose my taste for kissing?

for where we started from then

is now where we ended..

so i won’t pretend

this is surely the end..

the end of what used to be in our eyes

the end of short laughters and cold smiles

the end of tortured and martyred soft lies

the end of freezing nights we tried to die..

so this must be it then,

so this is the end