the sweet nothings you whisper,
a reminder of the times that we had.
joyous, reckless, young.
tonight i ask you to stay,
but once again you don't listen.
so is it ever going to be over?
you and me.
the clown returned. crept back inside my head and told me things i needed to hear. filling my head with thoughts that are now words. goading me to come back. six months. six years. doesn't matter.
its not over.