The time has come, that fateful day.
When I must apologise, sorry I must say.
Having repressed it all, for such a time. It breaks through now, in this winterry clime.
So much that I did, stuff that was wrong.
The things that hurt us, hidden for so long.
But they returned, by a song they were triggered.
And an apology is best, or so I have figured.
I miss the old days, before our fights,
When our talking flowed, from day to night.
Yet I tore that ribbon, rejected the boon.
And was left with a hole, it all happened too soon.
So I filled this pit with pain, and locked it away.
Not caring or thinking, and little to you did I say.
But now it returns, the things of the past.
Is not pain and love such a wicked, evil craft.