My clasp much too painful
The kisses sans passion
and reek in its place
With looks that no longer kill
Words no longer sweet
Humour that now smirks
As the glory of our togetherness
Finds the dark tunnel
Leading to the records of history
An archive
Spanning the grey moments in life
And I debate
Do I strive to mend the smudge
Or choose to abandon this painful
existence, for a life,
for some one is still
Waiting for the passion
In all its glory and weirdness
In all its abandon and compile
A new archive
For the colourful stolen moments in life
