Writing about it
Everything is over, and everything is fine. I am no more your lover, and you are no longer mine. When I think, I still remember, and I still really miss. That cold night of December, and that burning kiss. Drawing a line on water, thought I could make it. Only myself to flatter, forgot I wasn't fit. Sometimes I do wonder, if my dreams could come true. It would be a big blunder, I could only embarass you. If I was allowed to choose, I would ask you to stay a bit. You thought me to love and lose, now I am writing about it.