The deepest wounds heal,
scarred forever in symbol-like pain,
marking you for the world to see,
that it was you who was left behind.

Reds burn, blues take you down,
scents of oils bring back the times
when you spent all your hours within anothers life
and now, it will never happen again.

That old covered-over trail beckons,
and in the fall I followed the dancing leaves,
but when the gate opened, I pulled it closed,
turned on my heels, walked away, smiling.

So, next time you want to play games,
maybe you should find a game player.
from what I hear you're losing all you try.
And the end for my soul...
                      was also my salvation.