How can it be
That someone you love
Is a memory
In the time it takes to breathe
Time is a thief
Time is made of iron
From here it seems
The gentle moments seem extreme
When the sun is in my eyes
I Feel like there is all this good time
When the light has left this place
When will time take you away
When will all this fade
What is love?
What is meaning?
Where are the promises?
How can I stop this from feeling faded?
-We imprint a bit of ourselves on all of the peoplewe love, and they on us.
When they are gone from our lives ... a part of us is missing, too.