Like the cool breeze, the years flow.
Along with the memories, I watch them go.
Day by day, I write in my journal,
letting the memories, by pen, show.
My love for the past will never end.
I will rot until the past and I seek ammends.
I live in each previous year that passes by,
with no look at the future,
only the look in your past eyes.
As the years pass, I sink deeper.
Deeper into the dark abyss of memories.
It happened all too quickly,
my memories run with the wind.