I’m lookin’ at a blank page, di’n’t know I could be so wrong.
I could say you’re all my rage, could say I’m fallin’ headlong.
But regardless what I think,
there has been so much spilled ink.
Fractions made it to the stage; a facet in this love song.
Seems it’s true, what they say. What is love, anyway?
Love is you. Love is grey. Love is pain.
Bin ravaged by – old father time, but I – still act young at heart.
A matured fortified wine, acquired taste abstract art.
It is useless to pretend,
we’re no longer just good friends.
Is it time to say goodbye? Or give ourselves a fresh start?
©27.9.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman
A fraction made it to stage; a facet in this love song.
there’s been so much spilled ink.
no good cryin’ over spilled ink.
I’m lookin’ at a blank page, but it won’t stay blank for long.
I could say you’re all the rage, could say I’m fallin’ headlong.