We said our last good-byes last night.
The music stopped,
we've not a chair to take this round,
and so 
we say
goodnight.

I?ll not forego
the chance to say
that once upon a time
I had the luck 
to meet, 
perhaps
the fate, to speak
to one as wonderful as...

You knew,
or should
at least
have known,
that I?d pursue
through internet and telephone
my dreams of youth,
regardless of my dried-up pen,
the knocks of life,
my dying sense of romance; hence, 
my need to prove to me 
	and to the world:
the storybooks don't always lie,
don't always speak of things untrue,
but sometimes,
instead,
somehow they 
fly in the face of 
fact and reason.

Oh, go ahead and say,
"No way, what treason
to denounce the path
by which you've lived
your life!"

But yes, I say,
I tried to prove me wrong.
And now the magic fades,
our song is gone.
There's not a chair to take apart.
I gave my soul, my breath and heart
and found
that ALL was not enough.

In the twilight of a song,
the final notes still linger on,
their deaths, a final breath of love 
that presses in the time we've shared.
The music stopped,
there's not a chair 
in sight to take.
And so I say:

Farewell,
I love you,
Goodnight.