My story is something that none of you can know, even though
it has happened to every single one of you.
Rolling over and conceeding that there is
nothing new does not become us, because it was I that fell
in love with her,
my lips she kissed, it was I that felt the pain in the parting, from me
death stole, my
dreams abandoned
new
life, new
dawning, all seen afreash in my
eyes.
Reworking and remaking, all the old kisses, all the old partings, all the old tales. This is living, this is being alive and this is my story
It keeps us talking, keeps us being human, my story