So, this really is the end of us?
Was it just a bunch of lust?
Or was it that we made mistakes,
mistakes too big, too wide, to fake
like they aren't there,
taunting me, teasing me,
grabbing me, squeezing me
until I burst out and cry,
love pouring out of my eyes,
love pouring down from the sky
in a winter rain,
a little game that fate likes to play
called life.

I've been wondering if you felt it, too?
Do you wake up feeling blue?
Do you still long for that morning hello,
those night-time discussions,
the afternoon shallow talk,
long and little,
wishing we could fix this and
meet in the middle?

I know it's not worth a thought
or your time, but maybe this
simple rhyme will help us
remember a better time,
and we can start over,
stop the rain,
stop the strain that I've begun to feel
for reasons unknown,
soften the sound of our gravely tones,
stop the fighting,
stop the lightning
and thunder and screaming
and roaring and crashing
and thrashing and
take me home
to that place in your arms
that I once knew.