I keep thinking of her,
Her perfect life that screws mine,
Mine that's always pushed to brown bottles never wine,
Wine and whine my life isn't perfect.
I'm a prisoner of the past,
Past is my present it's all but one,
One of my many mistakes,
Mistake to move on for being friends.
It always starts with how have you been?
Been OK I miss you,
You when it's me its always warm,
Warmth that keeps me there waiting.
It dawns that I need to move on,
On with my lifein solitude,
Solitude of me, myself and I,
I have to focus on me.
We cry over friends we may never have back, people we once loved, bridges that have been burnt. But there's a reason the past is in the past. You only have so much room in your life. Save it for people that deserve it. Chances are, if someone's in the past, they deserve to stay there, time to move on....
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