Beyond this moment, there is nothing left to say.
Your silence has always spoken volumes.

The infinite library within my mind is
Home to the unending serious of black,
Embossed, leather-bound tomes, every page

Well worn, faded with time, the truth of the text within
As frayed and pale as the ribbon marking the
Yellowed page. Every line remains the
Same as the last. Hastily scribbled lines read
I must go. I cannot stay. There is no other way.
Determining the meaning is simple, the reason not so. But
Every lie must be repeated to be believed.