Disheartening how battle-ridden
The words seem when written
Just to say it's become my decision
This isn't worth the pain, inconsequential 
You bring to the table
With no offering beyond 
A maybe tomorrow,

But tomorrow has become another fabled-
Ghost-child-phantom memory
Of so many days turned into months
In the blink of an eye, we awaken 
And just like a ghost visitor on a heartbroken night 
We desperate succumb to need to blink and poof! They're gone.

Midnight tears like regret pour down the cheek
Wherein all the mirrored images birthed the greatness,
All the reasons, all the rational ideas,
Buried beneath a million last-second excuses, all as
Overplayed as a cd stuck for weeks on re...

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