Notes
The seat you once called yours is getting cold,
Just as the nights and days we said were for the old.
We used to leave to fight against the winds, together,
Now you’ve left without a word, and I’m left with the weather.
I write these notes for you,
I’ve thrown them in the wind,
In hopes that they may find,
Their way for you to see
Just what I’ve done and how I’ve been and who you were to me,
That I’ve found out that life’s not through,
I wrote those notes for you.
The winds, at least they whisper, at least they have a say,
The cold is getting colder, ever since you left in May.
The rain has wet the thoughts I’ve had while spilling lies,
But at least I know I still feel something through the teardrops from the skies.
I write these notes for you,
They won’t fly in the wind,
They’re drowning now thanks to the storms
Where I thought hope had been.
My best attempts to getting them from me to you have failed.
Whether the skies were grey or blue,
I wrote those notes for you.
The seat you once called yours is up in flames,
And everything we knew as well as both our names.
I’ve even thrown the memories in hopes that they would burn,
But through the flames, the ash and smoke I know there's much to learn.
I wrote those notes for you,
I burned them in the dark.
With that I say goodbye to you and sorry to my heart.
Though all this time I’ve done my best to be your enemy,
I thank you now that I can see
Those notes have been for me.
