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.

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