It must be something more than this -
a love betrayed,
tainted,
painted
the harsh colors that hide in your words
and in your silence.
There must be something that lies beyond this -
suicidal,
missing you,
kissing you
in pictures on top of our T.V.
There must be life after this -
seeing you everywhere,
stunned,
shunned
by the friends that you kept,
and that I believed to be ours.
There must be something more to this -
tears every night,
broken,
denying the truth that you've spoken.
There must be a point where this will cease -
moving on,
falling,
and still you keep calling.
I think I'll go back one more time
and fall into your guarded eyes,
your "so smooth" lies,
and yet again,
your cool goodbyes.
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