The past:

I sit unhappily solitary, under the rain, but safe inside.

Your voice trickles and evades my every thought, every move.

A thousand unanswered questions scream,

To the schitzophrenic silence, I was a disaster.

The decision:

To find it in myself, I could never quite decode you

To either fall away, leave you in ashes, or

Bury my dignity and pride and tell you how I feel

I settled on the first, after the second failed me to the core.

But now:

All I've been waiting for, has, in your manner,

Spoken itself, I feel the weight, but you don't

And all the thousand questions come back, but you won't answer

I could forgive, I could forget, I could walk away with the burnden to carry me forever