It's already been a year.
Yet your image still haunts me.
The memories of you still stalk me.
The lovers holding hands,
looking at the setting sun,
knowing that at least for another day,
that their love will live.
I look at the setting sun,
and know that our love has already died,
died out before the sun.
In the end, I can sing every single song,
I heard on the radio
The songs we used to dance to,
now metamorphized
into the saddest songs I have ever heard.
And I cry.
