It would have been beautiful,
If we painted together a canvas of devotion and admiration.
Had our affair not been a record of desolation,
a hollow of painful voices,
a symphony of sighs,
an agony in waiting for never coming attention,
deep echoes of a mournful and barren song.
You were my promise and I was your secret,
and that alone guaranteed the beginning of our end.
I searched for another to make me whole,
I screamed for another to...