This Is Not a Love Song

A cycle of poems «The Last Letter I Burned Was My Own»

Cold winds blow where warmth once stayed,
Words we said now start to fade.

No soft lines, no tender lies,
Just empty rooms and hollow skies.

This is not a love song,
It’s a story of what’s wrong.
Broken hearts that can’t belong,
A melody lost, dark and strong.

We danced in fire, then burned it down,
King and queen without a crown.
The smiles we wore were thin disguise,
Beneath the truth, the sharpest lies.

No soft lines, no tender lies,
Just empty rooms and hollow skies.

This is not a love song,
It’s a story of what’s wrong.
Broken hearts that can’t belong,
A melody lost, dark and strong.

The echoes fade of laughter’s song,
Where did all the right turn wrong?
A fading spark, a distant hope,
We’re strands too weak to ever rope.

If love’s a fire, we lost the flame,
Just ash and shadows in its name.
No heartfelt verse or sweet refrain,
Only silence falls with pain.

This is not a love song,
Just memories that drag along.
In broken notes, we both belong,
This is not a love song.